Google

This is a digital copy of a book that was preserved for generations on library shelves before it was carefully scanned by Google as part of a project

to make the world's books discoverable online.

It has survived long enough for the copyright to expire and the book to enter the public domain. A public domain book is one that was never subject

to copyright or whose legal copyright term has expired. Whether a book is in the public domain may vary country to country. Public domain books

are our gateways to the past, representing a wealth of history, culture and knowledge that's often difficult to discover.

Marks, notations and other maiginalia present in the original volume will appear in this file - a reminder of this book's long journey from the

publisher to a library and finally to you.

Usage guidelines

Google is proud to partner with libraries to digitize public domain materials and make them widely accessible. Public domain books belong to the
public and we are merely their custodians. Nevertheless, this work is expensive, so in order to keep providing tliis resource, we liave taken steps to
prevent abuse by commercial parties, including placing technical restrictions on automated querying.
We also ask that you:

+ Make non-commercial use of the files We designed Google Book Search for use by individuals, and we request that you use these files for
personal, non-commercial purposes.

+ Refrain fivm automated querying Do not send automated queries of any sort to Google's system: If you are conducting research on machine
translation, optical character recognition or other areas where access to a large amount of text is helpful, please contact us. We encourage the
use of public domain materials for these purposes and may be able to help.

+ Maintain attributionTht GoogXt "watermark" you see on each file is essential for in forming people about this project and helping them find
additional materials through Google Book Search. Please do not remove it.

+ Keep it legal Whatever your use, remember that you are responsible for ensuring that what you are doing is legal. Do not assume that just
because we believe a book is in the public domain for users in the United States, that the work is also in the public domain for users in other
countries. Whether a book is still in copyright varies from country to country, and we can't offer guidance on whether any specific use of
any specific book is allowed. Please do not assume that a book's appearance in Google Book Search means it can be used in any manner
anywhere in the world. Copyright infringement liabili^ can be quite severe.

About Google Book Search

Google's mission is to organize the world's information and to make it universally accessible and useful. Google Book Search helps readers
discover the world's books while helping authors and publishers reach new audiences. You can search through the full text of this book on the web

at |http: //books .google .com/I

Ihitjrlttnrli Cullivhiit

r:

^*\

4

li

i

*

1

1

OCiviJ I- i

T..r

n

I

i

THE HEW YORK

PUBLIC UBRART

ASTOR, LENOX AMD
TUJDJBK F0UMO41

mmmmmmmmmmmm

' //„ ( Win/:;

THE TASK,

A POEM^

IN SIX BOOKS.

BY WILLIAM COWPEH,

PF THE UMBB TEMPLE, EB^

WHICH IB PKEFIEED)
A Shan Acoount of (he
D WRITINGS OF THE AUTHOK.

SIttanp:

BT B. D. PACEABD, 41 BTATS1TKKET.
K'>len I'lckHnJ, I'liDUi-.

ISIO.

SHORT ACCOUNT

OF

THE LIFE AND WRITINGS

OF

WILLIAM COWPER, ESQ.

It has frequently been observed, that the life of a
man of genius is marked by few incidents. The
mind which grows up amidst the privacies of study}
and the character, which is framed by solitary medi-
tation, belong in a great degree, to a world of their
own, from which the passions and events of ordi-
nary life are equally excluded. There is, therefore,
nothing very remarkable in the life of the poet to
whom these pages are devoted. But in the history
of those who have done honor to their country, and
added richness to their native language, no circum -
stance is trifling, and no incident imworthy of record ;
especially as there is a sort of sanctity attached to
these men, which diffuses itself to the minutest
transaction in which they have been concerned.

Mr. Cowper was bom at Berkhamsted, in Buck-
inghamshire, of amiable, and respectable parents, of
noble affinity, and connected with persons of great
worldly influence, his advjaicemcnt in temporal atHu-
once and honor, seemed to demand no uncommon

IV LIFE OF WILLIAM COWPERf ESQ.

mental endowments. His opening g^enius discover-
ed, however, a capacity for elegant literature ; and
he enjoyed the best advantages for improvement, in
so pleasing a pursuit. With uncommon abilities, he
possessed a most amiuble temper ; and he b«came»
not only the darling of his relations, but beloved and
i'dmiicdby his associates in education. But the
towciinj^ hopes that were natm'ally built on so flatter-
iiig a ground, were undermined at an early period.
From childhood, during which he lost a much loved
parciit, his spirits were always very tender, and often
greatly dejected. His natural diftldence, and depres-
i^ion of mind, were increased to a most distressing
di'gree, by the turbulence of his elder comradeS) at
the most celebrated public school in England. And}
when at mature age, he w£.s appointed to a lucrative
And honoi*uble station in the Law, he shrunk with the
greatest terror, from the appearance which it -requir-
ed him to make before the upper house of Parlia-
ir»cnt. Several affecting circumstances concurred
to increase the agony of his mind, while revolving
the consequences of relinquishing the post to which
he had been nominated ; and he wbhed for a mental
derangement, as the only apparent means by which
his perplexity and distress could be terminated. A
situation of mind, of which few among mankind can
form a suitable conception, but which it may be hop-
ed, many will regard with tender pity, drove liim to
desperation ; and the manner of his preservation in
life, or rather his restoration to it, indicated an unu-
sual interposition of the Providence of God. Hia
fiionds no longer persbted in urging him to retun

Lire OF 'iriLLiAM cowper, Esq. v

hb office. It was resigned ; and witli it ids flatter-
ing prospects vanished, and ids connections with the
world dissolved.

At this awful crisis, appears to have commenced
Mr. Cowper's serious attention to the ways of God.
Having been educated in the knowledge of the holy
scriptures, and estranged from the fool-hardy arro-
gance which urges unhappy youths to infidelity, he
had constantly retained a reverence for true piety.
His manners were in general decent and amiable ^
and the course of pleasures in wldch he had indulged
iiinuielft being customary with persons in similar
circumstances, he remained insensible of his real
state, till he was brought to reflect upon the guilt of
.that action, by which he had nearly plunged himself
into eternity. He now sunk under the horrors of
perdition ; and that distraction which he luid sought
as a refuge from the fear of man, now seized him
amidst his terrors of eternal judgment.. ..A vein of
self-loathing ran through the whole of his insiodty ;
and his faculties were so completely deranged, that
the attempt, wldch he had lately deplored as an un-
pardonable transgression, now appeared to him an
indispensible work of piety. He therefore repeated
his assaults upon his own life, under the dreadful de-
lusion, that it was right to rid the earth of such a
sinner. His purpose being again mercifully frus-
trated, he became at length familiar with despair,
and suffered it to be alleviated by .conversation.
And after having endured the severest distress, ho
very beautifully describes tlie consolation which he

A 2

\1 LIFE OF WILLIAM COWPERy ESA*

dci ived from bis faith in the Son of God, in the fol-
lowing affecting allegory.

•* I wns a stricken <lccr, that left the herd
LoDg since; with nmny an arrow deep infixt.
My pantiug lide wag cliarg;'d, when I withdrew
To seek a ti'anquil death in distant sliadcs.
There was I found hy one who had himself
Been hurt hy th' areliers. In his side he boi'e.
And in his bands and feet, the cruel scars.
With gentle force soliciting the darts.
He drew them forth, and hcal'd, and bade me live."

During the last year or two of Mr. Cowpcr*8 life,
his health, and his state of mind, appeared to be as
much restored as for any time during his long afflic-
tions.... He was, however, attacked by a disorder^,
wliich brought on a rapid decay. Early on the 25th
of April, 1 800, he sunk into a state of apparent in-
sensibility, which might have been taken for a tran-
quil slumber, but that his eyes remained half open.
His breath was regular, though feeble; and his
countenance perfectly serene. In this state he con-
tinued for twelve hours : and then expired, without
heaving his breath.

The first volume of poems, which he published,
consists of various pieces, on various subjects. It
seems that he had been assiduous in cultivating a
turn for grave and argumentative versificatidn, on
moral and ethical topics. Of this kind is the Table
Tiilk, and several other pieces in the collection.

It would be absurd to give one general character
of the pieces that were published in this volume s yet

Lirm OF WILLIAM COWPBRy ESq. vlL

this b true concerning Mr. Cowper's productions;
that in all the varieties of his style tliere may still be
discerned the likeness and irapresfsion of the same
mind ; the same unaffected modesty which alwsiys
rejects unseasonable ambitions and ornaments of Ian-
gua^ ; the same easy vigor; the same serene and
cheerful hope deiived from a steady and unshaken
faith in the principles of chnstianity.

I am not prepared to affirm that Mr. Cowper de-
tifes any praise from the choice and eleg^ce of his
#onds ; but he has the higher praise of having cho-
sen them without affectation; He appears to have
used them as he found them ; neither introducing
fiisddious refinements, nor adhering to obsolete bar*
barlBms. He understands the whole science of num-
berS) and he has practised their diiferent kinds with
considerable happiness ; and if his verses do not flow
so softly as the delicacy of a modem ear requires»
that roughness^ which is objected to his poetry, is
his choice, not his defect But this sort of critics,
who admire only what is exquisitely polished, these
lovers of ** gentleness without sinews,"* ought to
take into their estimate the vast effusion of thought
which b so abundantly poured over the writings of
Mr. Cowper, without which human discourse is only
an idle combination of sounds and syllables.

After an interval of a few years, his Task was
ushered into tlie world. The occasion that gave
birth to it was a trivial one. A lady had requested

• Dr. Sprat's Life of Cowley.

Viii LIFE OF WILLIAM COWPER} BSI^.

him to write a piece of blank verse, and gave him
the Sofa for a subject. This he expanded into one
of the finest moral poems of which the English Ian*
guagc has been productive.

It is written in blank verse, of which the construc-
tion, though in some respects resembling Milton's,
is truly original and characteristic. It is not too
stately for familiar description, nor too depressed for
sublime and elevated imagery. If it has any fault,
it is that of being too much laden with idiomatic ex-
pressions, a fault which the author, in the rapidity
with which his ideas and his utterance seem to tiave
flowed, very naturally incurred.

- In this poem his fiuicy ran with the most excur^*
sive freedom. The poet enlarges upon his topics,
and confirms his argument by every variety of illus**
tration. He never, however, dwells upon them too
long, and leaves off in such a manner, that it seems^
it was in his power to have said more.

The arguments of the poem are various. The
works of nature, the associations with which they
exhibit themselves, the designs oi Providence and
the passions of men. Of one advantage the writer
has amply availed himself. The work no^ being
rigidly confined to any precise subject, he has indul-
ged hinself in all the laxity and freedom of a miscel-
laneous poem. Yet he has still adhered so faithful-
ly to the general laws of congruity, that whether he
inspires the softer affecti^His into his reader, or de-

Z.19B Of WILLIAM COWPBttt ESq. IZ

tighU him with keen and playful nilleiy^ or dis-
courses on the ordinary manners of human nature,
fir holds up the bright pictures of religious consola-
tion to his mind, he adopts, at pleasure, a diction
just and appropriate, equal ineloTation to the sacred
effusions of Christian rapture, and suflliciently easy
and fiuniliar for descriptions of domestic life ; skil-
ful alike in soaring without effort and descending
without meanness.

He who desires to put into the hands of youth a
poem, which>not destitute of poetic embellishmentf
is free from all matter of licentious tendency, will
find in the Task a book adapted to his purpose. It
would be the part of an absurd and extravagant aus-
terity^ to condemn those poetical productions in which
the passion of love constitutes the primary feature....
In every age that passion has been the concernment
of life, the theme of the poet, the plot of the stage.
Yet there is a sort of amorous sensibility, bordering
almost on morbid enthusiasm, which the youthful
mind too frequently imuibes from the glowing senti-
ments of the poets. Their genius describes, in the
most splendid colours, the operations of a passion
which requires rebuke instead of incentive, and leads
to the most grovelling sensuJity the enchantments
of a rish and creative im.if^inution. But in the Task
of Cowper, tliere is no licentiousness of description.
All is grave, and majestic, and moral. A vein of re-
ligkms thinking pervades every page, and he dis-
ooursea, in a strain of the most finished poetry, on
the insufficiency and vanity of human pursuits.

Z^ LIFE OV WILLIAM COWPERy BS^.

Nor is he always severe. He is perpetually en"
tivening the mind of his readers by sportive descrip-
tionsy and by representing, in elevated measure, lu-
dicrous objects and circumstances, a species of the
mock-heroic of which Philips was the first author.'
In this latter sort of style Mr. Cowper has displayed
great powers of versification, and great talenta for
humor. Of this the liistorical account he has given
of chairs, in the first book of the Task, is a striking
specimen.

The attention, however, is the most detained by
those passages, in which the charms of rural life, and
the endearments of domestic retirement, are pour-
trayed. It is in vain to search in any poet of ancient
or modem times for more pathetic touches of repre-
sentation. The Task abounds with incidents, intro*-
duced as episodes, and interposing an agreeable relief
te the grave and serious parts of the poetry. Who
has not admired his crazy Kate ? A description in
which the calamity of a disordered reason is painted
with admirable exacmess and simplicity.

'< She begs au idle pin of all &he meets."

I know of no poets who would have introduced so
minute a circumstance into his representation ; yet
who is there that does not perceive th-dt it derives its
effect altogether from the minuteness with which it
is drawn?

It were an endless task to point out the beauties .
of the poem. It is now established in its reputation,
and, by universal consent, it has given Cowper a
very high place among the English poeti.

THE TASK,

A POEM.

wmmmmmmm

BOOK I.

I

ARGUMENT OP THE FIRST BOOK.

Hutoriesl deduedon of setti, from the stool to the SofiL...A ichool
boy's runUe....A walk in the coiiDtr)r....The seene described....
Boral sounds as well as sights deligfatfuL..w\nother wa]k....M»-
take oonceming the charmB of soUtode eoiTeeted....Colomuules
eQiiimended....AleoFe, and the Tiew from it...The wildemesi....
The groTe....The thresher.... The necessity and the benefita oC
ezercise....Tbe works of aatore superior to, and in some in*
itanees inimitable by, art...The wearisomeness of what is com-
monly called a life of p]easiire....Change of scene sometimes ex-
pedient. .A common described, and the character of Crazy Kate
introdttced....GipaiM.~.The blessings of eirilized life....That state
most fisTorable to ▼irtue....The South Sea islanders compassion-
ated, but chiefly OmaL...His present state of mind supposed..^
Cirihsed life friiendly tOTirtu6, but not great citie8....Great citie%
and London in particular, allowed their due praise, but cenanr-
€d....Fete champetre....The book concludes with a reflectkn oa
the fatal efieeti of dissipation and effeminacy upon our pubOo

THE TASK.

BOOK L

THE SOFA.

1 8I1IO the sovA. I, who lately sang
Truth, Hope, and Charity,* and touched with awe
The solemn chords, and with a trembling hand,
Escap'd with pain from that adventurous flight,
Now seek repose upon an humbler theme ;
The theme though humble, yet august and proud
Th' occasion — ^fbr the Fair commands the song.

Time was, when clothing sumptuous or for use,
Save their own punted skins, our sires had none.
As yet black breeches were not ; satin smooth,
Or velvet soft, or plush with sliaggy pile :
The hardy chief upon the rugged rock
Wash'd by the sea, or on the grav'ly bank
Thrown up by wintry torrents roaring loud,
Fearless of wrong, rcpos'd his weary strength.
Those barb'rous ages past, succeeded next
The birth-day of invention ; weak at first,
Doll in design, and clumsy to perform.
Joint-stools were then created ; on three legs

• Sec Poems, rol. I.
B

1

14 THE TASK. BOOK I.

Upborne they stood. Three legs upholding firm

A massy slab, in fu.8hion square or round.

On such a stool immortal Alfred saty

And sway'd the sceptre of his infant realms :

And such in ancient halls and mansions drear

May still be seen ; but perfoi*ated soi*e,

And driird in holes^ the solid oak is found,

By worms voracious eating through and through.

At length a generation more refin'd
Improv'd the simple plan ; made three legs four.
Gave tbicm a t^visted form vermicular..
And o'er the seat, with plenteous wadding stuff 'd^
Induc'd a splendid cover, green and blue^
Yellow and red, of tap'stry richly wrought
-Vnd woven dose, or needle-work sublime.
There might ye see the piony spread wide,
The full-blown rose, the shepherd and his lass>
Lap-dog and lambkin with black staring eyes.
And parrots with twin cherries in their beak.

Now came the cane from India, smooth and bright
With nature's varnish ; sever'd into stripes
That interlac'd each other, these supplied
Of texture firm a lattice-work, that brac'd
The new machine, and it became a chair.
But restless was the chair ; the back erect
Distress'd the weary loins, that felt no ease ;
Xhe slipp'ry seat betray *d the sliding part
That press'd it, and the feet hung dangling downi /
Anxious in vain to find the distant floor.
These for the rich : ^hc rest, whom fate had plac*d

BOOK I. THE SOFA.' I'S

In modest mediocrity, content

With base materials, sat on wcll-tann'd hidcs^

Obdurate and unyielding, glassy smooth,

With here and there a tuft of crimson yamj

Or scarlet crewel, in the cushion fix'd ;

If cushion might be called, what harder sccm'd

Than the firm oak of which the frame was form'd.

No want of timber then was felt or fear'd

In Albion's happy isle. The umber stood

Pond'rous and fix*d by its own massy weight.

But elbows still were wrjiting; these, some s-;y,

An aldei'man of Cripplcgatc coutrivM :

And some ascribe th*^ invention to a priest.

Burly and big, and studious of his ease.

But, rude at fiist, and not with easy slope

Receding wide^ they pressed against the ribs,

And bruis'd the side ; and, elevated high.

Taught the rais'd shoulders to invade the ears.

Long time elaps'd or c*cr our rugged sires

Complained, though incommodiously pent in,

And ill at ease behind. The ladies first

'Gan murmur, as became the softer sex.

Ingenious fancy, never better pJeus'd,

Than when employM t* acconiuiodate the fair.

Heard tfce sweet moan with pity, and dcvis'd

The soft settee ; one elbow at each enJ,

And in the midst an elbow, it recciv'd,

United yet divided, twuin at once.

So at two kings of Brentford on one throne ;

And so two citizens who take the air,

Close pack'd, and smiling, in a chaise and one.

But relaxation of the languid fmme,

16 THE TAftK. BOOK I.

By soft recumbency of outstretched limbs,
Was bliss rescrv'd for happier days. So sloir
The growth of what is excellent ; so hard
T' attain perfection in this nether world.
Thus fii'st necessity invented stools^
Convenience next suggested elbow chairs,
And luxury th' accomplished sofa last.

The nurse sleeps sweetly, hir'd to watch the sick,
Whom snoring she disturbs. As sweetly he
Who quits the coach-box at the midnight hour
To sleep within the carriage more secure,
His legs dependmg at tlie open door.
Sweet sleep enjoys the curate in his desk.
The tcriious rector drawling o'er his head ;
And sweet the clerk below. But neither sleep
Of lazy nurse, who snores the sick man dead»
Nor his who quits the box at midnight hour
To slumber in the carriage more secure,
Nor sleep enjoy'd by curate in his desk,
Nor yet the dosings of the clerk, are sweet,
Compared with tlie repose the sofa yields.
Oh may I live exempted (while I live
Guiltless of pamper'd appetite obscene)
From pangs arthritic, that infest the toe
Of libertine excess. The sofa suits
The gouty limb, 'tis true ; but gouty limb,
Though on a sofa, may I never feel :
For I have lov'd the rural walk through lanes
Of grassy swarth, close cropt by nibbling sheep, .
And skirted tliick with intertexturc firm
Of thorny boughs i have lov'd the rural walk

JSOPK I« THE SOFA. 1^

O'er hills, through valleys, and by rivers' briuk,

Ere since a truant boy I pass'd my bounds

T' enjoy a ramble on the banks of Thames ;

And still remember, nor without regret

Of hours that sorrow since has much endeai'^d.

How oft, my slice of pocket store consum'd,

Still iiung'ring, pennyless and fur from home,

I fed on scarlet hips ard stony haws,

Or blushing crabs, or berries, that imboss

The bramble, black as jet, or sloes austere.

Hard fere 1 but such as boyish appetite

Disdains not ; nor the palate, undeprav'd

By culinary arts, unsav'ry deems.

No SOFA then awaited my return ;

Nor SOFA then I needed. Youth repairs

His wasted spirits quickly, by long toil

Incurring short fatigue ; and, though our years

As life declines speed rapidly away.

And not a year but pilfers as he goes

Some useful grace that age would gladly keep :

A tooth or auburn lock, and by degrees

Their length and colour from the locks they spare :

Th' elastic spring of an unwearied foot

That mounts the stile with ease, or leaps the fence,

That play of lungs, inhaling and ag^n

Respiring freely the fresh air, that makes

Swift pace or steep ascent no loil to me.

Mine have not pilfer'd yet ; nor yet impair'd

'My relish of far prospect ; scenes that sootii'd

Or charm'd me young, no longer young, I find

Still soothing, and of pow'r to ch^rm me siill.

And witness, dear companion of my walks,
b2

i

IS THE TASK. BOOK I*

W1h>sc arm thb twentieth winter I perceive

Fast lock'd in mine» with pleasure such as iove«

ConlJrm'd by long experience of thy worth

And well-tried virtues, could alone inspire....

Witness a joy that thou hast doubled long.

Thou know'st my praise of nature most sincere^

And that my raptures arc not conjur'd up

To serve occasions of poetic pomp.

But genuine, and art partner of them all.

How oft upon yon eminence our pace

Has slacken'd to a pause, and we have borne

The rufHing wind, scarce conscious that it blew.

While admiration, feeding at the eye,

And still misated, dwelt upon the scene.

Thence with what pleasure have we just descem'd

The distant plough slow moving, and beside

His laboring team, tliat swerv'd not from the track>

The sturdy swain diminished to a boy i

Here Ouse, slow winding through a level plain

Of spacious meeds with cattle sprinkled o'er,

Conducts the eye along his sinuous course

Delighted. There, fast rooted in their bank>

Stand, never overlook'd, our fav'ritc elms,

That scre^en the herdsman's solitary hut ;

AVhilc far beyond, and overthwart the stream^

That, as with molten glass, inlays the vale,

The sloping land recedes into the clouds ;

Displaying on its varied side the grace

Of hedge-row beauties numberless^ square tow*r,

Tall spire, from which tlie sound of cheerful bells

Just undulates upon the listening ear,

OroveS) heaths, and smoking villages, remote.

Scenes must be beautiful^ which^ daily viewM,
Please dailf, and whose novelty survives
Long knowledge and the scrutiny of years.
Praise justly due to those that I describe*

Nor rural sights alone, but rural sounds^
Exhilerate the spirit, and restore
The tone of languid nature. Mighty winds,
That sweep the skirt a£ some far-spreading wood
Of ancient growth, make music not unlike
The dash of ocean on lus winding shore,
And lull the spirit while they fill the mind ;
Unnumbered branches waving in the blast,
And all their leaves fast fluttering, all at once*.
Nor less composure waits upon the roar
Of distant floods, or on the softer voice
Of neighboring fountain, or of rills that slip
Through the cleft rock, and, chiming as they flili
Upon loose pebbles, lose themselves at leng^
In matted grass, that with a livelier green
Betrays the secret of their silent course.
Nature inanimate employs sweet soimds,.
But animated nature sweeter still.
To sooth and satisfy the human ear.
Ten thousand warblers cheer the day, and one
The livelong night : nor these alone, whose note»
Nice fingerOd art must emulate in vain ;
But cawing rooks, and kites that swim sublime
In still repeated circles^ screaming loud,
The jay, the pic, and ev'n the boding owl.
That hails the rising moon, have charms for me.
Sounds inharmonious in themselves and harsh^

90 THE TASK. BOOK T.

Yet heard in scenes where peace forever reigns*.
And only there, please highly for their sake.

Peace to the artist^ whose ingenious thought
Devis*d the weather-house, that useful toy 1
Fearless of humid air and gathering rains,
Forth steps the man....an emblem of myself^
More delicate, his tim'rous mate retires.
When winter soaks the fields, and female feet,.
Too weak to struggle with tenacious- clay,
Or ford the rivulets, are best at home.
The task of new discoveries fisdls on me.
At such a season, and with such a charge,
''Once went I forth ; and found, till then unknown,
A cottage, whither oft we since repair;
'Tis perch'd upon the green-hill top* but close
Environed with a ring of branching elms
That overhang the thatch, itself unseen
Peeps at the vale below ; so thick beset
With foilage of such dark redundant growth,.
I call'd the low-roof 'd lodge the fieaaant'e ncet.
And, hidden as it is, and far remote
From such unpleasing sounds as haunt the ear
In village or in town, the bay of curs
Incessant, clinking hammers, grinding wheels,
And infants clam'rous whether pleas'd or pain'd,
Oft have I wish'd the peaceful covert mine.
Here, I have said, at least I should possess
The poet's treasure, silence, and indulge
The dreams of fancy, tranquil and secure.
Vain thought 1 the dweller in that still retreat
Dearly obtains the refuge it affords.

BOOK I. TBXSOrA. 31

Its elevated site forbids the wretch
To drink sweet waters of the crystal well ;
He dips his bowl into the weedy ditch.
And, heavy laden, brings his beverage homey
Far fetch'd and little worth ; nor seldom waita»
Dependent on the baker's punctual call.
To hear his creaking panniers at the door.
Angry and sad, and his last crust oonsum'd.
So fiu^wel envy of the fietuant*s nett I
If solitude make scant the means of life,
Society for me !....thou seeming sw«et,
Be still a pleasing object in my view ;
My visit still, but never mine abode.

Not distant far, a length of colonnade
Invites us, monument of ancient taste.
Now scomM, but worthy of a better fete.
Our fathers knew the value of a screen
From sultry suns ; and, in their shaded walks
And long-protracted bow'rs, cnjoy'd at noon
The gloom iiud coolness of declining day.
Wc bear our shades about us ; self-depriv'd
Of other screen, the thin umbrella spread,
And range an Indian waste without a tree.
Thanks to Bencvoius*....he spares me yet
These chesnuts rang'd in corresponding lines;
And, though himself so polishM, still reprieves
The obsolete prolixity of shade.

Descending now (but cautious, lest too fast)
A sudden steep, upon a rustic bridge

* J<4ui Couxtaej Tbrookmorton, Etc^. of Wenton. Uu^cm^mft^

22 THE TASK. BOOK I.

We pass a gulf, in which the willows dip
Their pendant boughs^ stooping as if to drink.
Hence, ancle-deep in moss and flow'ry thyme,
We mount again, and feel at ev'rjr step
Our foot half sunk in hillocks green and soft,
Hais'd by the mole, the miner of the soil.
He, not unlike the gpreat ones of mankind,
Disfigures earth ; and, plotting in the dark,
Toils much to earn a monumental pile.
That may record the mischiefs he has done.

The summit gain'd, behold the proud alcove
That crowns it ! yet not all its pride secures
The grand retreat from injuries impressed
Dy rural carvers, who with knives defiau^e
The pannels, leaving an obscure, rude name.
In characters imcouth, and spelt amiss.
So strong the zeal t' immortalize himself
Beats in the breast of man, that ev'n a few,
Few transient years, won from th* abyss abhorred
Of black oblivion, seem a glorious prize.
And even to a clown. Now roves the eye :
And posted on this speculative height,
Exults in its command. The sheep«ibld here
Pours out its fleecy tenants o'er the glebe.
At first, progressive as a stream, they seek
The middle field ; but scatter'd by degrees,
Each to his choice, soon whiten all the land.
There, from the sun-burnt hay-field, homeward

creeps
The loaded wain ; while, lightened of its charge^
The wain thcit meets it passes swiftly by ;

BOOS I. THE S09A.. ^3

The boorish driver lesming o'er his team
Vocif 'rous, and impatient of delay.
Nor less attractive is the woodland scene,
Diversified with trees of ev'ry growth,
Alike, yet v^ious. Here the gray smooth trunks
Of ash, or lime, or beech, distinctly shine,
Within the twilight of theii* distant shades ;
There, lost behind a rising gromid, t^e wood
Seems sunk, and shortened to its topmost boughs.
No tree in all the grove but has its charms,
Though each its hue peculiar ; paler some.
And of a wannish gray ; the willow such,
And poplar, that with silver lines his leaf.
And ash far-stretching his umbrageous arm.
Of deeper green the elm ; and deeper still,
Lord of the woods, the long-surviving oak.
Some glossy leav'd, and shining in the sun.
The maple, and the beach of oily nuts
Prolific, and the lime at dewy eve
Diffusing odors: nor unnoted pass
The sycamore, capricious in attire.
Now g^een, now tawny, and, ere autumn yet
Have changed the woods, in scarlet honors bright.
O'er these, but far beyond (a spacious map
Of hill and valley interpos'd between)
The Ouse^k dividing the well-water'd land.
Now glitters in the sun, and now retirei^
As bashful, yet impatient to be seen.

Hence the declivity is sharp and short,
And such the re-ascent ; . between them weeps
A little Naiad her impoverish'd urn

24 THE TASK. BOOK I.

An summer long, which winter fills again.
The folded gates would bar my progress now,
But that the Lord* of this enclose demesne,
Communicatiye of the good he owns,
Admits me to a share ; the guiltless eye
Commits no wrong, nor wastes what it enjoys.
Refreshing change I where now the blazing sun ?
By short transition we have lost his glare.
And steppM at once into a cooler clime.
Ye fallen avenues ! once more I mourn
Your fate unmerited, once more rejoice
That yet a remnant of your race survives.
How diry and how light the graceful arch,
Yet awful as the consecmted roof
Re-echoing pious anthems ! while beneath
The chequered earth seems restless as a flood
Brush'd by the wind. So sportive is the light
Shot through the boughs, it dances as they dance.
Shadow and sunshine intermingling quick.
And darkening and enlight'ning, as the leaves
Play wanton, ev'ry moment, ev'ry spot.

And now, with nerves new brac'd and spirits
chcer'd.
We tread the wilderness, whose well-roll*d walks^
With curveture of slow and easy sweep....
Deception innoceht....give ample space
To narrow bounds! The grove receives us next j
Between the upright shafts of whose tall elms
We may discern the thrasher at his task.
Thump after thump resounds the constant flail,

* See the foregoiog note.

BOOK I. TBE SOFA.. tS

That seems to swing uncertam, and jret fells
Full on the deitin'd ear. Wide flies the chaff.
The rnading straw sends up a frequent mist
Of atomS) sparkling in the noon-day beam.
Come hither^ye that press your beds of down^
And sleep not : see him sweating o'er his bread
Before he eats it.../Tis the primal curse.
But softened into mercy ; made the pledge
Of cheerful days, and nights without a groan.

By ceaseless action all that is subsists.

Constant rotation of th' unwearied wheel

That nature rides upon, maintains her health,

Her beauty, her fertility. She dreads

An instant's pause, and lives but while she moves.

Its own revolvency upholds the world.

Winds from all quarters agitate the air.

And fit the limpid element for use,

Else noxious ; oceans, rivers, lakes, and streams.

All feel the fresh'ning impulse, and are cleans'd

By restless undulation : ev'n the oak

Thrives by the rude concussion of the storm :

He seems indeed indignant, and to feel

Th' impression of the blast with proud disdain.

Frowning, as if in his unconscious arm

He held the thunder : but the monarch owes

His firm stability to what he scorns....

More fix'd below, the more disturbed above.

The law by which all creatures else are bound,

Binds man the lord of all. Himself derives

No mean advantage from a kindred cause,

From strenuous toil his hours of sweetest ease.

c

26 THE TASX. BO^ T.

1 The sedentary stretch their lazy length
When custom bids, but no refreshment find,
For none they need : the languid eye, the cheek
Deserted of its bloom, the flaccid, shrunk,
And withered muscle, and yet the vapid soul,
Reproach their owner with that love of rest
To which he forfeits ev'n the rest he loves.
Not such the alert and active. Measure life
By its true worth, the comforts it affords.
And their's alone seems worthy of the name.
Good health, and, its associate in most,
Good temjjer ; spirits prompt to undertake.
And not soon spent, tliough in an arduous task ;
The pow'r of fancy and strong thought are theirs;
Ev'n age itself seems privileg'd in them.
With clear exemption from its own defects.
A sparkling eye beneath a wrinkled front
The vet'ran shows, and, gracing a grey beard
With youthful smiles, descends toward the grave
Sprightly, and old almost without decay.

Liike a coy maiden, ease, when courted most,
Farthest retires....an idol, at -vhose shrine
Who oft'ncst sacrifice are favor'd least.
The love of nature, and the scene she draws,
Isnature's dictate. Strange ! there should be foundj
Who, self-imprison'd in their proud saloons,
Renounce the odors of the open field
For the unscented fictions of the loom ;
Who, satisfied with only penciled scenes,
Prefer to the performance of a God
Th' inferior wonders of an artist's hand !

BOOK 1-. THE SOT A. C7

Lovely indeed the mimick works of art ;
But nature's works far lovelier. I admire....
Ncme more adinires....the painter's magic skill.
Who shows me that which I shall never see,
Convejs a distant country into mine.
And throws Italian light on English walls :
But imitadve strokes can do no more
Than please the eye.... sweet nature ev'ry sense.
The air salubrious of her loRy hills,
The cheering fragrance of her dewy vales,
And music of her wood8....no works of man
May rival these ; these all bespeak a pow'r
Peculiar, and exclusively her own.
Beneath the open sky she spreads tlie feast ;
'Tis free to all.... 'tis ev'ry day renew 'd ;
Who scorns it starves desefvcdly at home.
He does not scorn it, who, iittni Isoi^U ^^^S
In some unwholesome dungeon, and a prey
To sallow sickness, which the vapors, dank
And clammy, of his dark abode have bred,
Escapes at last to liberty and light :
His cheek recovers soon its healthful hue ;
His eye relumines its extinguish'd fires ;
He walks, he leaps, he runs.... is wing'd with joy,

\And riots in the sweets of ev'ry breeze.

^j[le does not scorn it, who has long endur'd
A fever's agonies, and fed on drugs.
Nor yet the mariner, his blood inflam'd
With acrid salts : his very heart athirst
To gaze at nature in her green array,
Upon the ship's tall side he stan'ls, possess'd
With visions prompted by intense desire :

28 THE TASK. BOOK !•

Pair fields appear below, such as he left
Far distant, such as he would die to find....
He seeks them headlong, and is seen no more.

The spleen is seldom felt were Flora reig^ ;
The low'ring eye, the petulence, the frown,
And sullen sadness that o'ershade, distort.
And mar the face of beauty, when no cause
For such immeasurable woe appears,
These Floi*a banishes, and gives the fair
Sweet smiles, and bloom less transient than her OWki,
It is the constant revolution^ stale
And tasteless, of the same repeated joys,
That palls and satiates, and makes languid lifer
A pedlar's pack, that bows the bearer down.
Health suffers, and tlie opiiits ebb ; the heart
I^c«^m1« frc.T. lie cv.-n clioice....at the full feast
Is famish'd....finds no music in the song,
No smartness in the jest ; and wonders why.
Yet thousands still desire to journey on.
Though halt, and weary of the path they tread.
The paralytic, who can hold her cards.
But cannot play them, borrows a friend's hand
To deal and shuffle, to divide and sort
Her mingled suits and sequences ; and sits,
Spectatress both and spectacle, a sad
And sil«nt cypher, while her proxy plays.
Others are dragg'd into the crov/ded room
Between supporters ; and, once seated, sit.
Through downright inability to rise.
Till the stout bearers lift the corpse again.
These speak a loud memento. Yet ey'n these

BOOK I. TU£ SOFA. «9

Themselves love life, and cling to it, as he
That overhangs a torrent, to a twig.
They love it, and yet loath it ; fear to die,
Yet scorn the purposes for which they live.
Then wherefore not renounce them ? No....thc dread,
The slavish dread of solitude, that breeds
Reflection and remorse, the fear of shame,
And their invet'i*ate habits, all forbid.

Whom call we gay ? That honor has been long
The boast of mere pretenders to the name.
The innocent are gay.. ..the lark is gay.
That dries his feathers, saturate with dew,
Beneath the rosy cloud, while yet the beams
Of day-spring overshoot his humble nest.
The peasant too, a witness of his song,
Himself a songster, is as gay as he.
But save me from the g^ety of those
Whose head-aches nail them to a noon-day bed ;
And save me too from theirs whose haggard eyes
Flash desperation, and betray their pangs
For property stripp'd off by cruel chance ;
From gaiety that fills the bones with puin.
The mouth with blasphemy, the heart with woe.

The eartli was made so various, that the mind
Of desultory man, studious of change,
And pleas'd with novelty, might be indulg'd.
Prospects, however lovely, may be seen
Till half their beauties fade ; the weary sight.
Too well acquainted with their smiles, slides off^
Fastidious, seeking less fenuiiAr sceaea*

30 THE TASK. Boot. I.

Then snug enclosures in the shellei''d vale,
Where frequent hedges intercept the eye,
Delight us ; happy to renounce awhile,
Not senseless of its charms, what still we lovc^
That such short absence may endear it more.
Then forests, or the savage rock, may please,
That hides the sea*mew in his hollow clefts
Above the reach of man. His hoary head,
Conspicuous many a league, the mariner,
Bound homeward, and in hope already there.
Greets with three cheers exulting. At his waist
A girdle of half-withei-'d shrubs he shows,
And at his feet the bafRed billows die.
The common, overgrown with fern, and rough
With prickly gorse, that, shapeless and deform'dji
And dang'i*ous to the touch, has yet its bloom,
And decks itself with ornaments of gold.
Yields no unpleasing ramble ; there the turf
Smells fresh, and, rich in odorif 'rous herbs
And fungous fruits of earth, regales the sense
M'ilh luxury of unexpected sweets.

There often wanders one, whom better days
Saw better clad, in cloak of satin, trimm'd
With lace, and hat with splendid ribbon round.
A serving maid was she, and fell in love
With one who left her, went to sea, and died.
Her fancy followed him through foaming waves
To distant shores ; and she would sit and weep
At what a sailor suffers ; fancy, too.
Delusive most were warmest wishes are^
Would oft amiciptte his ffM retum^

BOOK I. THE SOFA. 31

And dream Af transports she was not to know-.
She heard the doleful tidmgs of his death....
And never smilM again ! and now she roams
The dreary waste ; there spends the livelong da^.
And lhere» unless when charity forbids.
The livelong night. A tatter'd apron hides.
Worn as a cloak, and hardly hides, a gown
More tatter'd still ; and both but ill conceal
A bosom heaved with never-ceadng sighs.
She begs an idle {mi of all she meets,
And hoards them in her sleeve ; but n«edful food
Though press'd with hunger oft, or comelier clothes^.
Though pinchM with cold, wsks never..*..Kate ia
cmz'd!

I see a cohnnn of slow rising smoke
O'ertop the lofty wood that skirts the ^dld.
A vagabond and useless tribe there eat
Their miserable meal. A kettle, slung
Between two poles upon a stick transverse,
Receives the morsel....fiei^ obscene of dog,
Or vermin, or, at best, of cock purlom'd
From hiaaccustomM perch. Hard-ikring race I
They pick their ftiel out of cv'ry hedge.
Which, kindled with dry leaves, just saves un*

quench'd
The spark <^ life. The sportive wind blows wide
Their flutt'ring rags, and shows a tawny skin.
The vellum of the pedigree they claim.
Great skill have they in palmistry, and more
To conjure clean away the gold they touch.
Conveying worthleoa dross into iu fiace )

32 THE TASK. BOOK I.

Loud when they beg, dumb only when they steal. '

Strange ! that a creature rational, and cast

In human mould, should brutalize by choice

His nature ; and, though capable of arts

By which the world might profit, and himself»

Self-banish'd from society, prefer

Such squalid sloth to honorable toil !

Yet even these, though, feigning sickness oft,

They swathe the forehead, drag the limping limb,

And vex their flesh with artificial sores ;

Can change their whine into a mirthful note

,When safe occasion offers ; and, with dance»

And music of the bladder and the bag.

Beguile their woes, and make the woods resound.

Such health and gaiety of heart enjoy

The houseless rovers of the sylvan world ;

And, breathing wholesome air, and wand'ring much}

Need other physic none to heal th' effects

Of loathsome diet, penury, and cold«

Blest he, though undistinguished from the crowd
By wealth or dignity, who dwells secure
Where man, by nature fierce, has laid aside
His fierceness, having learnt, though slow to learn,
The manners and the arts of civil life.
His wants, indeed, are many ; but supplf
Is obvious, plac'd within the easy reach
Of temp'rate wishes and industrious hands.
Here virtue thrives as in her proper soil ;
Not rude and surly, and beset with thorns,
And terrible to sight, as when she springs
(If e'er she springs spontaneous) in remote

BOOK X. THE SOVA. 33

And barb'root climes, where nolenoe preyaiisf
And strength is lord of all ; but gentle, kind,
By culture tam'd, by liberty refredi'd,
And all her fruits by radiant truth matured.
War 8iid the chase engross the savage whole;
War followM for revenge, or to supplant
The envied tenants of some happier spot ;
The chase for sustenance, precarious trust !
His hard condition with severe constraint
Binds all his faculties, forbids, all growth
Of wisdom, proves a school in which he learns
Sly circumvention, unrelenting hate.
Mean self attachment, and scarce aught beside.
Thus fare the shivering nadves of the north,
And thus the rangers of the western world,
Where it advances hr into the deep,
Towards th' Antarctic. Ev'n the favor'd isles,
So lately found, although the constant sun
Cheer all their seasons with a grateful smile,
Can boast but little virtue ; and, inert
Through plenty, lose in morals what they gain
In manners... .victims of luxurious ease.
These therefore I can pity, plac'd remote
From all that science traces, art invents,
Or inspiration teaches ; and enclos'd
In boundless oceans, never to be pass'd
By navigators uiunform'd as they.
Or ploughed perhaps by British bark again :
But, far beyond the rest, and with most cause,
Thee, gentle savage !* whom no love of thee
Or thine, but curiosity perhaps,

•Omti.

34 THE TASK. jBQOK U

Or else vain gloiy, prompted us to draw

Forth from thy native bow'rs, to show thee here

With what superior skill we can abuse

The gifts of Providence, and squander life.

The dream is past ; and thou hast found again

Thy cocoas and bananas, palms and yams,

And home-stall thatchM with leaves. But hast thou

found
Their former charms ? And, having seen our state}
Our palacesi our ladies, and our pomp
Of equipage, our gardens, and our sports,
And heard our music ; are thy simple friends.
Thy simple fare, and all thy plain delights.
As dear to thee as once ? And have thy joys
Lost nothing in comparison with ours ?
Rude as thou art, (for we return the rude
And ignorant, except of outward show)
I cannot think thee yet so dull of heart
And spiritless, as never to regret
Sweets tasted here, and left as soon as known.
Methinks I see thee straying on the beach,
And asking of the surge that bathes thy foot,
If ever it has wash'd our distant shoi'e.
I see thee weep, and thine are honest tears»
A patriot's for his country : thou art sad
At thought of her forlorn and abject state^
From which no power of thine can raise her upw
Thus fancy paints thee, and, though apt to err»
Perhaps errs little when she paints thee thus*
She tells me, too, that duly ev'ry mom
Thou climb'st the mountain top, with eager ey^
Exploring far and wide the wat'ry waste

BOOK T. THE SOVA/ SS

For sight of ship from England. Ev^ry speck
Seen in the dim iiorizon turas thee pale
With conflict of contending hopes and fears.
But conies at last the dull and dusky eve.
And sends thee to thy cabin, well prepared
To dream all night of what the day denied.
Alas ! expect it not. Wc found no bait
To tempt us in thy country. Doing good,
Disinterested good, is not our trade.
We travel far, 'tis true, but not for nought ;
And must be brib'd, to compass earth again,
By other hopes and richer fruits than yours.

But, though true worth and virtue in the mild
And genial soil of cultivated life
Thrive most, and may perhaps thrive only there.
Yet not in cities oft : in proud, and gay,
And g^ain-devoted cities. Thither flow
As to a common and most noisome sewer,
The dregs and feculence of ev'ry land.
In cities foul example on most minds
Begets its likeness. Rank abundance breeds
In g^ross and pamper'd cities, sloth and lust,
And wantonness and gluttonous excess.
In cities vice is hidden with most ease.
Or seen with least reproach ; and virtue, taught
By frequent lapse, can hope no triumph there
Beyond th' achievement of successful flight.
I do confess them nurs'ries of the arts.
In which they flourish most ; where, in the beams
Of warm encouragement, and in the eye
Of public note^ they reach their perfect sLee.

16 TBE TASK. BOOK f«

Such London is, by taste and weakh fffoclaimM

The fairest capital of all the worlds

By riot and incontinence the wont.

There, touchM fay Reynolda, a dull blank becomes

A lucid mirror, in which nature sees

All her reflected features. Buoon there

Gives more than female beauty to a stone)

And Chatham's eloquence to marble lips.

Nor does the chissel occupy alone

The powers of sculpture, but the style as much i

Each province of her art her equal care.

With nice incision of her ^ded steel

She ploughs a brazen Held, and clothes a soil

So sterile with what charms so'cr she will,

The richest scenery and the loveliest forma.

Where finds philosophy her eagle eye.

With which she gazes at yon burning disk

Undazzled, and detects and counts his spots ?

In London. Where her implements exact,

With which she calculates, computes, and scans,

All distance, motion, magnitude, and now

Measures an atom, and now girds a world ?

In London. Where has commerce such a mart,

So rich, so throng'd, so drain'd, and so supplied,

As London....opulent, enlarg'd, and still

Increasing, London? Babylon of old

Not more the glory of the earth than she,

A more accomplished world's chief glory now.

She has her praise. Now mark a spot or tW0|
That so much beauty would do well to purge ; '
And show this queoi of cities, that so fidr

May yet be foul { so witty, yet not wile.

It is not seemly, nor of good report,

Thatehe is slack in discipline; more prompt

T* aven^ than to prevent the breach of law ;

That she is rigid in denouncing death

On petty robbers, and indulges life

And liberty, and oft times honor too.

To peculators of the public gold i

That thieves at home must hang ; but he that puts

Into his overgorg'd and bloated purse

The wealth of Indian provinces, escapes.

Nor is it welU nor can it come to good.

That, though pro&ne and infidel contempt

Of holy writ, she has presum'd t' annul

And abrogate, as roundly as she may.

The total ordinance and will of God ;

Advancing fashion to the post of truth.

And cent' ring all authority in modes

And customs of her own, till sabbath rites

Have dwindled into unrespected forms.

And knees and hassocks are well nigh divorc'd«

God made the country, and man made the town.
What wonder then that health and virtue, gifts
That can alone make sweet the bitter draught
That life holds out to all, should most abound
And least be threatened in the fields and groves ?
Possess ye, therefore, ye, who, borne about
In chariots and sedans, know no fatigue
But that of idleness, and taste no scenes
But such as art contrives, possess ye still
Your element ; there only can ye shine i

. ^^f^g *c«vc3j 18 an the light tl

lirds warbling all the music. We ca
"he splendor of your lamps ; they bu
)ur softer satellite. Your songs confi
^ur more harmonious notes : the thri
car'dy and th' offended nightingale is
i'here is a public mischief in your mirt
t plagues your country. Folly such at
rrac'd with a sword^ and worthier of a
[as made, what enemies could ne'er hi
)ur arch of empire^ stediast but for yo
L mutilated structure^ soon to fall.

JOOK IS* THE TIMB-PIECS. 5 1

Are occupations of the poet's mind

So pleasingi and that steal away the thought

With such address from themes of sad import^

That) lost in his own musingsy happy man I

He €&els th' anxiedes of life, denied

Their wonted entertainment, all retire.

Such joys has he that sings. But ah I not such,

Or seldom such, the hearers of his song.

Fastidious, or else listless, or perhaps

Aware of nothing arduous in a task

They never undertook, they little note

His dangers or escapes, and haply find

Their least amusement where he found the most.

But is amusement all ? studious of song.

And yet ambitious not to sing in vain,

I would not trifle merely, though the world

Be loudest in their praise who do no more.

Yet what can satire, whether grave or gay ?

It may correct a foible, may chastise

The freaks of fasliion, regulate the dress.

Retrench a sword-blade, or displace a patch;

But where are its sublimer trophies found?

What vice has it subdued ? whose heart reclaimed

By rigor, or whom laugh'd into reform ?

Alas ! Liviathan is not so tam'd :

Laugh'd at} he laughs again ; and, stricken hard,

Turns to the stroke his adamantine scales,

That fear no discipline of human hands.

The pulpit, therefore (and I name it fill'd
With solemn awe, that bids me well beware
With what intent I touch that holy thing)....

ARGUMENT OF THE SECOND BOOK.

HeftectioDS suggested by the coQchisiQn of the former book....Peace
among the nations reeommended, on ike ground of their eom-
xnon fcllowahip in sorrow — .Prodigies enuinerated.o..SiciliaB
carthqiiakes....Maii rendered ohnokioos to these oalaniities hy
Bin....God the agent in them....The philoao|^7 that stops at te-
condarj causes reproved..«Our own late nusoarriages aeeocmtBd
for....SatiriGal notice takea of our trips to Fontainbleau....Bat the
pulpit, not satire, the proper engine of reformation....The Re?*
erend Advertiser of engraved 8ermons....Petitmaitre P^rmi^.
The good preaeher....Pietnresof a theatrical clerical eoa ie omh....
Story-tellers and jesters in the pulpit reproTed.» Apostrophe l»
popular applause....Iletailers of ancient philosophy expostnlatad
iiJth....Sumof the whole matter.. ..Effects of sacerdotal misman-
agement on the laity....l^eir fully and extravaganee....Tbe mia»
diiefs of profusion....PDofu8ion Itself, with all its eonsequent evOi^
oHcribed, as to its principal caose^ to the want of discipline in thft
njU\erifities.

THE TASK.

BOOK II.

THE TIME-PIECE.

Uh for alodge in some vast W'ildemess,

Some boundlesa contiguity of shades

Where rumor of oppressdon and deceit^

Of imsuccesaful or successful war^

Might never reach me more. My ear is paui'd^

Mj touL is sick, with ev'ry day's report

Of wrong and outrage with which earth is fill'd«

There is no flesh in man's obdurate heart.

It does not feel for man ; the nat'ral bond

Of brotherhood is sever'd as the flax

That fidls asunder at the touch o£ fire.

He finds his fellow guilty of a skin

Not colour'd like his own! and, having pow*r

T' enforce the wrong, for such a worthy cause

Dooms and devotes him as his lawful prey.

Lands intersected by a narrow fvith

Abhor each other. Mountains interpos'd

Make enemies of nations, who had else.

Like kindred drops, been mingled into one.

Thus man devotes his brother, and destroys;.

And, worse thaaall, and most to be deplor'd.
na

49 THE TASK. BOOK 1

As hiiTnan nat\ire*s broadest^ foulest blot.
Chains him» and tasks him, and exacts his sweat
With stiipes, that mercy, with a bleeding heartf
Weeps when she sees inflicted on a beast.
Then what is man ? And what man, seeing this>
And having human feeling, does not blush.
And hang his head, to think himself a man?
I would not have a slave to till my ground,
To carry me, to fan me while I sleep,
And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth
That sinews bought and sold have ever eam*d^
No : dear as freedom is, and in my heart's
Just estimation pnzM above all price,
I had much rather be myself the slave.
And wear the bonds, than fasten them en him.
We have no slaves at home....Then why abroad I
And they themselves, once ferried o'er the wav*
That parts us, are emancipate and ioos'd.
Slaves cannot breathe in England ; if their lungs
Receive our air, that moment they are free ;
They touch our country, and their shackles falL
That's noble, and bespeaks a nation proud
And jealous of the blessing. Spread it then,
And let it circulate through cv'ry vein
Of all your empire ; that when Britain's pow V
Is felt, mankind may feel her mercy too.

Sure there is need of social interceiurse^
Benevolence, and peace, and mutual aid^
Between the nations, in a world that seems
To toll the death*bell of its own decease^.
And by the Toice of aU its^caents^

To preach the gen'ral doom.* When were the trinib

Let slip v/itli such a warrant to destroy ?

When cud tiie wuves so haughtily overleap

Their dncient barriei-St deluging the dry ?

Fires from beneath) and meteorsf from abovtf

Portentous* unexampled, unexplain'd»

Have kindled beacons in the skies ; and th' old

And craxy earth has had her shaking fits

More frequent^ and forgone her usual rest.

Is it a time to wrangle, when the props

And pUianof our planet seem to Bdlf

And nature with a dim and sickly eye|

To wait the close of all £ But grant her end

More distant, and that profihecy demands

A longer »B{ntei unaccompiish'd yet ;

Sdll they are frowning signals, and bespeak

DispieaaoiB Bifiis breast who smites the earth

Or heals it, makes it languish or rejoice.

And 'tis but seemly, that, where all deserve

And stand expos'd by common peccancy

To what no.fisw have felt, there should be peace^

And brethren in calamity should love.

Alas for Sicily I rude fragments now
Lie scattered where the shapely column stxwd.
Her palaces are dust In all her streets
The voice of singing and the sprightly chord
Are silent. Revelry, and dance, and show
Suffer a syncope and solemn pause ;

* ADuding tb the ealamitiet at Jamaica. f Aiigiut 18, 178fL

. t Anadkg to (he fb|; that oovet^d both Europe and Asb during
Ab whole simuaBr of 1784.

44 THE TASK. BOOK II.

While God performs upon the trembling suge

Of hitt own \10rks9 his dreadful part alone.

How does the earth receive liim ^...With what signs

Of gratulation and deligliti her King ?

Pours she not all her choicest fruits abroad^

Her sweetest flow'rsy her aromatic gums9

Disclosing paradise where'er he treads I

She quakes at his approach. Her hollow womb.

Conceiving thunders, through a thousand deeps

And fiery caverns^ roars beneath his foot.

The hills move lightly, and the mountains smoke,

For he has touch'd them. From th' extremest point

Of elevation down into th' abyss,

His wrath is busy, and hi» frown i» felt.

The rocks fall headlong, and the valleys rise.

The rivers die into offensive pools,

And, charg'd with putrid verdure, breathe a gross

And mortal nuisance into all the air.

What solid was, by transformation strange.

Grows fluid ; and the fix'd and rooted earth,

Tormented into billows, heaves and swells,

Or with vortiginous and hidious wliirl

Sucks down his prey insatiable. Lnmcnse

The tumult and the overthrow, the pangs

And agonies of human and of brute

Multitudes, fugitive on ev'17 side.

And fugitive in vain. The sylvan scene

Migrates uplifted ; and, with all its soil

Alighting in far distant fields, finds out

A new possessor, and sunives the change.

Ocean has caught the phrenzy, and, upwrought

To an enormous and o'erbearing height^

lOOK II. THB TIltE*9IBCS. 4i

Not by a mii^tf idnd, but by that imxm
Which winda and waveaobey^ invadca the ahofd
ReaaUeaa. Never auch a audden flood*
Upiidg'd aa high, and aent on auch a chafge>
Posaeaa'd an inland scene. Where now the thraag
That preaa'd the beach^ and, haaty to depart*
Look'd to the aea for safety ? They are gone*
Gone inth die refluent wave into the deep....
A prince with half hia people! Ancient toVra*
And roola embattled high, the gloomy acenea
Where beauty oft and lettered worth consume
Life in the unproductive ahadea of death*
Fall prone z the pale inhabitants come forth*
And* happy in their unforeseen release
From all the rigors of restraint* enjoy
The terrors of the day that seta them free.
Who then* that haa thee* would not hold thee foal^
Freedom ! whom they that loose thee so regret*
That ev* A a judgment) making way for thee*
Seems in their eyes a mercy for thy sake.

Such evil sin hath wrought ; and auch a flame
Kindled in heav'Uf that it bums down to earth*
And) in the furious inquest that it makes
On God'a behalf, lays waste his foirest works*
The very elementa* though each be meant
The minister of man, to serve his wants*
CiHispire against him. With his breath he drawa
A plagiK into his blood ; and cannot use
Life's necessary means, but he must die«
Storms rise t* overwhelm him: or* if stormy winda
Rise not* the wateraof the deep ^hall rise*

4^ THE TASK. BOOK If

And) needing none assistance of the stormy
Shall roll themselves ashore, and reach him there.
The earth shall shake him out of all his holds.
Or make his house his grave ; nor so content^
Shall counterfeit the motions of the flood.
And drown him in her dry and dusty gulphs.
What then ! were they the wicked above all.
And we the righteous, whose fast anchor'd isle
MoVd not, while theirs was rock'd like a light akifl
The sport of ev*ry wave ? No : none are clear,
And none than we more guilty. But, where all
Stand chargeable with guilt, and to the shafts
Of wrath obnoxious, God may choose his mark :
May punish, if he please, the less, tu warn
, The more malignant. If he spar'd not them,
Tremble and be amaz'd at thine escape.
Far guiltier England, lest he spare not thee 1

Happy the man who sees a God employed
In all the good and ill that chequer life !
Rosolving all events, with their effects
And manifold results, into the will
And arbitration wise of the supreme.
Did not his eye rule all things and intend
The least of our concerns (since from the least
The greatest oft originate ;) could chance
Find place in his dominion, or dispose
One lawless particle to thwart his plan ;
Then God might be surprised) and unforeseen
Contingence might alarm him, and disturb
The smooth and equal 'Course of his affairs.
This truth philosophy^ though eagle^ey'd

VK>K n; THE TXIf E-nxcK. 47

In nature's tendencies, oft orerlooks ;

And) having found his instniment, forgets.

Or disregards, or, more presumptuous still,

Denies the poVr that wields it. God proclaims

His hot dbpleasure ag^nst foolish men,

That lire an atheist life : involves the heav'n

In tempests ; quits his grasp upon the winds,

And gives them all their fury ; bids a plague

Kindle a fiery boil upon the skin,

And putrify the breath of blooming health.

He calls for famine, and the meagre fiend

Blows mildew firom between his shrivelM lips.

And taints the gulden car. He springs his mines.

And desolates a nation at a blast.

Forth steps the spruce philosopher, and tells

Of homogeneal and discordant springs

And principles ; of causes, how they work

By necessary laws their sure effects ;

Of action and re-action. He has found

The source of the disease that nature feels,

And bids the world take heart and banish fear.

Thou fool I will thy discovery of the cause

Suspend th* effect, or heal it ? Has not God

Still wrought by means since first he made the

world?
And did he not of old employ his means
To drown it ? What is his creation less
Than a capacious reservoir of means
Form'd for his use, and ready at his will ?
Go, dress thine eyes with eye-salve ; ask of him,
Or -osk of whomsoever he has taught ;
And leun, t]M)iigh late^ the genuine cause of all.

6Q THK TASK. BOOK ^

As nations, ignorant of God, contrive
A wooden one, so we, no longer taught
By monitors that mother church supplies,
Now make our own. Posterity will ask
(If e'er posterity see verse of mine)
Some fifty or an hundred lustrums heiice,
What was a monitor in George's days ?
My very gentle reader, yii unborn.
Of whom I must needs augur better things
Since Heav'n would sure grow weary of a world
Productive only of a race like ours,
A monitor is wood....plank shaven thin.
Wc wear it at our backs. There closely braced
And neatly fitted, it compresses hard
The prominent and most unsightly bones.
And binds the shoulders flat. We prove its use
Sov'reign and most effectual to secure
A form, not now gymnastic as of yore,
From rickets and distortion, else, our lot.
But thus admonish'd, we can walk erect....
One proof at least of manhood ; while the mend
Sticks close, a mentor worthy of his charge.
Our habits, costlier than Lucellus wore,
And by caprice as multiplied as his,
Just please us while the fisishion is at full.
But change with ev'ry moon. The sycophant,
Who waits to dress us, arbitrates their date ;
Surveys his fair reversion with keen eye ;
Finds one ill made, another obsolete.
This fits not nicely, that is ill conceived;
And, making prize of all that he condemns,
With our expenditure defirays his own.

JMMLII. THE TIME^FIBCE. 6i

Variety's the very spice oi life»

That giTea k all its flavor. We have run

Through ev'ry change) that fancy at the loomy

Exhausted) has had genius to supply;

And studious of nuttation sdli, discard

A real elegtpce^ a little us'd)

For monstrous novelty and strange disguise.

We sacrifice to dresS) till household joys

And comforts cease. Di^ss drains our cellar dry^

And keeps our larder lean ; puts out our fires ;

And introduces hunger, frost and woe.

Where peace and hospitality might reign.

What man that lives, and that knows how to live.

Would fail t' exhibit at the public shows

A form as splendid as the proudest there.

Though appetite raise outcries at the cost?

A man o* th' town dines late, but soon enough,

With reasonable forecast and dispatch,

T' ensnre a side-box station at half price.

You think, perhaps, so delicate his dress,

His daily fare as delicate. Alas !

He picks clean teeth, and busy as he seems

With an old taveiii quill, is hungry yet !

The rout is folly's circle, which she draws

With magic wand. So potent is the spell.

That none, decoy'd into that fatal ring.

Unless by Heaven's peculiar grace, escape.

There we g^row early g^ey, but never wise ;

There form connexions, but acquire no friend ;

Solicit pleasure, hopeless of success ;

Waste youth in occupations only fit

For second childhood, and devote old age

I •

^t THE TA«S'* • 300iKJfr

To sports which only childhood coold excuse*

There they are happiest who dissemble best

Their weariness; and they the most poUte

Who squander time and treasure with a smilet

Though at their own destruction. She, that asks

Her dear five hundred friends, contenuis them ally

And hates their coming. They (what can they less I)

Make just reprisals; and, with cringe and shrug,

And bow obsequious, hide their hate of her.

All catch the frenzy, downward from her Grace^

Whose flambeaux flash against the morning skieSs

And gild our chamber ceilings as they pass,

To her, who, frug^ only that her thrift

May feed excesses she can ill afford.

Is hackney'd home unlacquey'd ; who, in haste

Alighting, turns the key in her own door,

And, at the watchman's lantern borrowing lights

Finds a cold bed her only comfort left.

Waives beggar husbands, husbands starve their wives,

On fortunes velvet altar ofi^'ring up

Their last poor pittance. ...fortune, most severe

Of goddesses yet known, and costlier far

Than all that held their routs in Juno's heav'n....

So fare we in this prison-house, the world.

And 'tis a fearful spectacle to see

So many maniacs dancing in their chains.

They gaze upon the links that hold them &st

With eyes of anguish, execrate their lot,

Then shake them in despair, and dance again 1

Now basket up the family of plagues
That wastie our vitals ; peculation, sale

MtOlC m THS TIME*PI^C£. #^

Of honofi p^rjuty, corruption, frauds
By forgery, by subterfuge of law,
By tricks and lies as num'rous and as keen
Aa the necessities their authors feel 1
Then cast them, closely bundled, ev'ry bi*at
At the right door. Profusion is the sire.
Profusion unrestrain'd, with all that's base
In character, has litter'd all the land,
And bred, withiix the mem'ry of no few,
A priesthood s^uch as Baal's was of old,
A people such as never was till now.
It is a hungry vice :....it eats up all
That gives society its beauty, strength.
Convenience, and security, and use :
Jd akes men mere vermin, worthy to be trapp'd
And gibbeted as fast as catchpoll claws
Can seize the slipp'ry prey : unties the knot
Of union, and converts the sacred band
Tha^ holds mankind together to a scourge.
Profusion, deluging a state with lusts
Of grossest nature and of worst effects.
Prepares it for its ruin : hardens, blinds.
And warps, the consciences of public men.
Till they, can laugh at virtue ; mock the fools
That trust them ; and, in the end, disclose a face
That would have shock'd credulity herself,
Unmask'd, vouchsafing this their sole excuse....
Since all alike are selfish, why not they ?
This does profusion, and tli' accursed cause
Of such deep mischief has itself a cause.

#4 THE TASE. BOOS Ih

In colleges and halliy in ancient da^ «»
When learning, virtue, piety, and truth,
Were precious, and inculcated with care.
There dwelt a sage call'd Discipline, liit heady
Not yet by time completely silrerM o*cr.
Bespoke him past the bounds of freakish youths
But strong for service still, and unimpaired.
His eye was meek and gentle, and a smile
Flay'd on his lips ; and in his speech was htard
Paternal sweetness, dignity, and lore.
The occupation dearest to his heart
Was to encourage goodness. He would stroke
The head of modest and ingenuous worth,
l*hat blush'd at his own praise ; and ^ess the youtfr
Close to his side that pleas'd him. Learning grew
Beneath his care, a thriving vigorous plant ;
The mind was well informed, the passions held
Subordinate, and diligence was choice.
If e'er it chanc*d, as somedmes chance it muatf
That one among so many overleap'd
The limits of control, his gentle eye
Grew stem, and darted a severe rebuke :
His frown was full of terror, and his voice
Shook the delinquent with such fits of awe
As left him not, till penitence had won
Lost favor back again, and clos'd the breach*
But Discipline, a faithful servant long,
Declin'd at length into the vale of years ;
A palsy struck lus arm ; his sparkling eye
Was quench'd in rheums of age ; his voice, uastrOBg^
Grew tremulous, and mov'd derision more
Than reverence in perverse rebellious youth.

M<Ht ir* THE TIMB-FI^E. 65

So colleges and halls neglected much

Tf^r good old friend ; and Discipline at length,

O'erlook'd yid unemploy'd, fell sick and died.

Theft'Stttdy languished, emulation slept,

And virtue fled. The schools became a scene

Of solemn farce,,where ignorance in stilts,

Ifis cap well linM with logic not his own.

With parrot tongue perform'd the scholar's party

Proceeding soon a graduated dunce.

Then compromise had place, and scrutiny

Became stone-blind ; precedence went in truck, ^

And he was competent whose purse was so.

A dissolution of all bonds ensued ;

The curtis, invented for the mulish mouth

Of head^strong youth, were broken ; bars and bolta

Grew rusty by disuse ; and massy gates

Forgot their office, opening with a touch ;

Till gowns at length are found mere masquerade,

The tasseVd cap and the spruce bond a jest,

A mock*ry of the world ! What need of these

For gamesters, jockeys, brothellers impure,

Spendthrifts, and booted sportsmen, oft'ner seen

With belted waist and pointers at their heels.

Than in the bounds of duty ? What was learned,

If aught was leam'd in childhood, is forgot ;

AiMi such expense as pinches parents blue,

And mortifies the lib'ral hand of love.

Is squandered in pursuit of idle sports

And vicious pleasures ; buys the boy a name,,

That sits a stigma on his father's house,

And cleaves through life inseparably close

To him that we«rs it. What can after-games

F *>

tb tRCtASt. ' ' Boosn

Of riper joys, and conimerce with the wotldi

The lewd vain world, that must receiye him MMf ^

Add to such crudidon, thus acquired,

Where science and where virtue are profetsM^

They may confirm his habits, rivet fast

His folly, but to spoil him is a task

That bids defiance to th' united powers

Off fiohion, dissipatioii, taverns, stews.

Now, blame we moat the nurslings or the nurse I

The children, crooked, and twisted, and deform'dy

Through want of care ; or her, whose winking eye

And slumbering oscitancy, mars the brood I

The nurse no doubt Regardless of her chargei

She needs herself correction ; needs to learn,

That it is- dangerous sporting with the world,

With things so sacred as a nation's trust.

The nurture of her youth, her dearest pledge.

All are not such. I had a brother once....
Peace to the mem'ry of a man of worth,
A man of letters, and of manners too i
Of manners sweet as virtue always wears,
When gay good-nature dresses her in smiles.
He grac'd a college,* in which order yet
Was sacred; and was honored, lov^d, and wcptf
By more than one, themselves conspicuous there-
Some minds are tempered happily, and mix*d
With such ingredients of good sense and taste
Of what is excellent in man, they thirst
With such a seal to be what they approve,
'That no restraints can circumscribe them more

* Bennct CoDcgc, Cainlnidfe.

ateS tU TBB TUtX-HSCS. 69

Thantiief tiiemselTMl^chokey iat wiadom'sttke;

Ngr €^i example hurt them : what thejr tee

Of ynpe m others but enhancing more

The ctAnw of virtue in their just esteem*

If syeh escape contagion^ and emerge

Pure, from so foul a pool, to shine ahroadi

And give the ;WOiid. their talenu and tkemselveoi

Small thanks to those whose neg^genee or sloths

£xpoe*d their inexperience to the enarey

And leathern to an undirected dimce. ■

See^ then, the quiver broken and decajr'dt
In which are kept our arrows ! rusting there
In wild disorder, and unfit for use.
What wonder, if discharged into the world.
They shame their shooters with a random flight.
Their points obtuse, and feathers drunk with winei
Well may the church wage unsuccessful war.
With such artiirry arm'd. Vice parries wide
Th' undreaded volley with a sword of straw,
And stands an impudent and fearless mark.

Have we not track'd the felon home, and found
His birth-place and his dam ? The country mourns
Mourns, because ev'ry plague that can infest
Society, and that saps and worms the base
Of th* edifice that policy has rab*d,
Swarms in all quarters; meets the eye, the ear^
And suffocates the breath at ev'ry turn.
Profusion breeds them ; and the cause itself
Of that calamitous mischief has been found :
Found too> where most offensive, in the skirts

as

^RETASK.

Boor ir.

Of the h>b'd pedagogue ! Elsey let th' arraign*d
Stand up unconscious, and refute the charge.
So, when the Jewish leader stretch'd his arm>
And wav'd his rod divine, a race obscene,
Spawn'd in the muddy beds of Nile, came fbrthy
Polluting Egypt : gardens, fields, and plains.
Were cover'd with the pest; the streets were fill*d^
Tl^ croaking nuisance lurkM in ev'ry nook ;
Nor palaces, nor even chambers, 'scap'd;
And the land sta&k.,..so numerous was the tqt^

^.

THE TASK,

A POEM.

BOOK in.

<i

ARGDMBKT OF THE THIRD BOOK.

Self-reeoUection u^A reproof....Addren to domestic happine
Some aeeoont of mjself....The Tftnity of many of tlieir pan
who are reputed wite...Jiiftificatioii of my een8aret....Difin
lominatioii oeceMaiy to tlw moat expert phikMOpher....'
quedon. What if truth ? answered by other <iue8tioos.~.Domi
happiness addressed again... J'ew lovers of the country...
tame hare....Oceupation8 of a retired g;entleman in his gardf
Pruning...Framing.'..Greenhoiise....SowingOffiower-aeeds^
country preferahle to the town even m the winter.«.Rea80iia '
atb deserted at that seasQn....Ruinous effects of gaming aa
expensive improTement..3ook concludes with an apoatrc
to the metropolis.

THE TASK.

BOOK III.

THE GARDEN.

•

xLs onC) who, long in thickets and in brakes
fintangled, winds now this way, and now that,
His devious course uncertain, seeking home ;
Or, having long in miry ways been foil'd
And sore discomfited, from slough to slough
Plunging, and half despairing of escape ;
If chance at length he find a greensward smooth
And faithful to the foot, his spirits rise,
He chirrups brisk his ear-erecting steed.
And winds his way with pleasure and with ease.
So I, designing other themes, and callM
T' adorn the Sofa with eulogium due.
To tell its slumbers, and to paint its dreams,
Have rambled wide. In country, city, seat
Of academic fame (howe'er deservM)
Long held, and scarcely disengag'd at last.
But now, with pleasant pace, a cleanlier road
I mean to tread. I feel myself at large.
Courageous, and refresh'd for future toil.
If Ua! await met or if dangers new.

72 TRB TA&K. BOOK lU

Since pulpits fidl, and sounding boards reflect
Most part an empty ineffectual aound»
What chance that I, to &me so Kttle known.
Nor conversant with men or manners much^
Should speak to purpose^ or with better hope
Crack the satiric thong ? 'Twere wiser far
For me^ enamor'd of seqHeater'd scenes,
And charm*d with rural beauty, to repose.
Where chance may throw me, beneath elm or vine
My languid limbs, when summer sears the plains ;
Or, when rough winter rages, on the soft
And shelter'd Sofa, while the nitrous air
Feeds a blue flame, and makes a cheerful hearth ;
There, undislurb'd by folly, and apprized
How great the danger of disturbing her,
To muse in silence, or at least confine
Remarks that gall so many to the few
My partner's in retreat. Disgust concealed
Is oft times proof of wisdom, when the fault
Is obstinate, and ciu*e beyond our reach.

Domestic happiness, thou only bliss
Of paradise that has surviv'd the fall i
Though few now taste thee unimpaired and purt,
Or, tasting, long enjoy thee ; too infirm.
Or too incautious, to preserve thy sweets
Unmix'd with drops of bitter, which neglect.
Or temper sheds into thy chrystal cup.
Thou art the nurse of virtuc....In thine arms
She smiles, appearing, as in truth she is,
Heav'n-bom, and destin'd to the skies again.
Thou art not known where pleasure is adored,

moowrtn. thb oaadbv. 7^

That reeling goddess with a zoneless waist

And wand'ring eyes, still leaning on the arm

Of novelty, her fickle frail support ;

For thou art meek ond constant, hating change,

And, finding, in the calm of truth-tried love,

Joys that her stormy raptures never jdeld.

Forsaking thee, what shipwreck have we made

Of honor, dignity, and fair renown !

Till prostitution elbows us aside

In all our crowded streets ; and senates seem

Conven'd for pui*poses of empire less

Than to release th' adultress from her bond.

The adultress ! what a theme for angry verse !

What provocation to th' indignant lieart

That feels for injur'd love ! but I disdain

The nauseous task to paint her as she is,

Cruel, abandon'd, glorying in her shame !

No :....let her pass, and chariotted along

In guilty splendor, shake the public ways ;

The frequency of crimes has wash'd them white !

And verse of mine shall never brand the wretch.

Whom matrons now, of character imsmirch'd,

And chaste themselves, are not asham'd to own.

Virtue and vice had bound'ries in old time,

Not to be pass'd : and she, that had renounc'd

Her sex's honor, was renounc'd herself

By all that prizM it ; not for prudery's sake.

But dignity's, resentful of the wrong.

'Twas hard, perhaps, on here and there a waif.

Desirous to return, and not received :

But was an wholesome rigor in the main.

And taught th' unblemish'd to preserve with wt

T4 Tun TASK. BOOK lUn

That purity) whose loss was loss of all. .

Men, too, were nice in honor in those days

And judg'd offenders well. Then he that sharp'df

And pocketed a prize, by fraud obtaiii'd.

Was mark'd and shun'd as odious. He that sold

His country, or was slack when she reqiur'd

His cv'ry nerve in action and at stretch.

Paid, with the blood that he had basely 6par'd>

The price of his default. But now....yes, now^-

We are become so candid and so fair^

So lib'ral in construction, and so rich

In Christian charity, (good-natur'd age !)

That they are safe, sinners of either sex,

Transgress what laws they may. Well dress'd> well

bred,
Well cquipag*d, is ticket good enough
To pass us readily through ev'ry door.
Hypocrisy, detest her as we may,
(And no man's hatred ever wrong'd her yet)
May claim this merit still....That she admits
The worth of what she mimics with such care,
And thus gives virtue indirect applause ;
But she has burnt her mask, not needed here^
Where vice has such allowance, that her shif^
And specious semblances have lost their use.

1 was a stricken deer, that left the herd
Long since ; with many an arrow deep infix'dy
My panting side was charg'd, when I withdrew
To seek a tranquil death in distant shades.
There was I found by one who had himself
Been hurt by th' archers. In his side he bore^

SaOK Iir. THB GA&BEK. T5

And in his hands and feet, the cruel scars.

With gentle force soliciting the darts,

He drew them forth, and heal'd, and bade me live.

Since then, with few associates, in remote

And silent woods I wander, far from those

My former partners of the peopled scene ;

With few associates, and not wishing more.

Here much I ruminate, as much I may.

With other views of men and manners now

Than once, and others of a life to come.

I see that all are wand'rers, gone astray

Each in his own delusions ; th/sy are lost

In chase of fimcied happiness, still woo'd

And never won. Dream after dream ensues ;

And still they dream that they shall still succeed,

And still are disappointed. Rings the world

With the vain stir. I sum up half mankind,

And add two thirds of the remaining half.

And find the total of their hopes and fears

Dreams, empty dreams. The million flit as gay

As if created only like the fly,

That spreads his motley wings in th* eye of noon,

To sport their season, and be seen no more.

The rest are sober dreamers, grave and wise,

And pregnant with discoveries new and rare.

Some write a narrative of wars, and feats

Of heroes little known ; and call the rant

An history : describe the man, of whom

His own coevals took but little note ;

And paint his person, character, and views,

As they had known him from his mother's womb.

They disentangle from the puzzled skein,

i

76 THE TAhK. ^OOK III.

In which obscurity has wrapp'd them up.

The threads of politic and shrewd design,

That ran through all his purposes, and charge

His mind with meaning that he never had.

Or, having, kept conceal'd. Some drill and bore

The solid earth, and from the strata there

Extract a register, by which we learn,

That he who made it, and reveal'd its date

To Moses, was mistaken in its age.

Some, more acute, and more industrious still,

Contiive creation ; travel nature up

To the sharp peak of her sublimest height,

And tell us whence the stars ; why some are fix'd.

And planetary some ; what gave them first

Rotation ; from what fountain fiow'd their light.

Great contest follows, and much learned dust

Involves the combatants ; eacli claiming truth.

And truth disclaiming both. And thus they spend

The little wick of life's poor shallow lamp.

In playing trieks with nature, giving laws

To distant worlds, and trifling in their own.

Is't not a pity now, that tickling rheums

Should ever tease the lungs and blear the sight

Of oracles like these ? Great pity too.

That, having wielded th' elements, and built

A thousand systems, each in his own way)

They should go out in fume, and be forgot ?

Ah \ what is life thus spent ? and what are they

But frantic, who thus spend it ? all for smoke....

Eternity for bubbles, proves at last

A senseless bargain. When I see such games

Play'd by the creatures of a pow'r who swears

BOOK III. THE OARDEir. 7T

That he will judge the earth, and call the fool
To a sharp reckoning that has livM in vain ;
And when I weigh this seeming wisdom well>
And prove it in th' infallible result
So hollow and so false.. ..I feel my heart
Dissolve in pity, and account the leamM,
If this be learning, most of all deceived.
Great crimes alarm the conscience, but it sleeps
While thoughtful man is plausibly amus'd.
Defend me, therefore, common sense, say Ij
From reveries so airy, from the toil
Of dropping buckets into empty wells.
And growing old in drawing nothing up !

'Twere well, says one sage erudite, profound,

Terribly arct)M and aquiline his nose,

And over-built with most impending brows,

/Twere well, could you permit the world to live

As the world pleases. What's the world to you ?...•

Much. I was bom of woman, and drew milk,

As sweet as charity from human breasts.

I think, articulate, I laugh and weep,

And exercise all functions of a man.

How then should I and any man that lives

Be strangers to each other ? Pierce my vain,

Take of the crimson stream meandering there,

And catechise it well ; apply the glass,

Search it, and prove now if it be not blood

Congenial with thine own : and, if it be.

What ec^e of subtlety canst thou suppose

Keen enough, wise and skilful as thou art,

To cut the link of brotherhood, by which,

g2

rS TUK TASK. BOOK III*

One common Maker bound me to the kind I

True ; I am no proficient, I confess,

In arts like yours. I cannot call the swift

And perilous lightnings from the angry cloudSf

And bid them hide themselves in earth beneath i

I cannot analyse the air, nor catch

The parallax of yonder luminous pointy

That seems half quench'd in the immense abyssi

Such pow'rs I boast not....neither can I rest

A silent witness of the headlong rage

Or heedless folly by which thousands die^

Bone of my bone, and kindred souls to mine.

God never meant that man should scale the heaVd^
By strides of human wisdom. In his works,
Though wond'rous, he commands us in his word
To seek him rather, where his mercy shines.
The mind, indeed, enlighten'd from above,
Views him in all ; ascribes to the grand cause
The grand effect ; acknowledges with joy
His mamier, and with rapture tastes his style.
But never yet did philosophic tube,
That brings the planets home into the eye
Of observation, and discovers, else
Not visible, his family of worlds,
Discover him that rules them ; such a veil-
Hangs over mortal eyes, blind from the birth.
And dark in things divine. Full often, too.
Our wayward intellect, the more we learn
Of nature, overlooks her Author more i
From instrumental causes proud to draw
C onclusiox^ retro|;rade> an^ mad mistake. «

BOOK III. THE OARlXBir. 7$>

But if his word once teach us, shoot a ray

Through all the heart's dark chambers, and reteal

Truths undiscem'd but by that holy light.

Then all is plain. Philosophy, baptiz'd.

In the pure fountain of eternal love.

Has eyes, indeed ; and viewing all she sees

As meant to indicate a God to man,

Giv«8 um his praise, and forfeits not her own.

Learning has borne such fruit in other days

On all her branches : piety has found

Friends in the friends of science, and true pray'r

Has flowed from lips wet widi Castalian dews.

Such was thy wisdom, Newton, childlike sag^ !

Sagacious reader of the works of God,

And in his works sagacious. Such too thine,

IVlilton, whose genius had angelic wings,

And fed on manna 1 And such thine, in whom

Our British Themis gloried with just cause,

Immortal Hale ! for deep discernment prais'd,

And sound integrity, not more than fam'd

Por sanctity of manniers undefird.

All flesh is grass, and all its glory fiEules
Like the fair flow'r dishevell'd in the vrind ;
Riches have wings, and grandeur is a dream:
The man we celebrate must find a tomb.
And we that worship him, ignoble graves.
Nothing is proof against the gen'ral curse
Of vanity, that seizes all below.
The only amaranthine flow*r on earth
Is virtue ; th' only lasting treasure, truth.
Dtttwhatistarutk? 'twas Pilate's question, pi^

to TRB TASK. BOOK III.

To tnith itself) that deign'd him no replf.

And wherefore ? will not God impart his light

To them that ask it ?....Freel)r....'tis hb jo^ ,

His glory, and his nature^ to impart.

But to the proud) uncandid, insincere»

Or negligent enquirer^ not a spark.

What's that wliich brings contempt upon a hooky

And him who writes it ; though the style be neaCf

The method clear, and argument exact I

That makes a minister in holy things

The joy of many, and the dread of more.

His name a theme for praise and for reproach ?...•

That, while it gives us worth in God's accounty

Depreciates and undoes us in our own ?

What pearl is it that rich men cannot buy^

That learning is too proud to gather up ;

But which the poor, and the despis'd of all)

Seek and obtain, and often find unsought ?

Tell me...4ikid I will tell thee what is truth,

O, friendly to the best pursuits of man.
Friendly to thought, to virtue, and to peace^
Domestic life in rural lebure pass'd !
Few know thy value, and few taste thy sweets;
Though many boast thy favors, and afiect
To understand and choose thee for their ow|i.
But foolish man foregoes his proper bliss,
£v'n as his first progenitor, and quits,
Though placM in paradise, (for earth has still
Some traces of her youthful beauty left)
Substantial happiness for transient joy.
Scenes form'd for contemplation, Mid to nurs^*

BOOK III. TH£ GARDKir. SI

The growing seeds of wisdom ; that suggest.
By ev'ry pleasing imag^ they present.
Reflections such as meliorate the heart,
ComposQ the passions, and exalt the mind ;
Scenes such as these 'tis his supreme delight
To fill with riot, and defile with blood.
Should some contagion, kind to the poor brutes
We persecute, annihilate the tribes
That draw the sportsman over hill and dale,
Fearless, and rapt away from all his cares ;
Should never game-fowl hatch her eggs again,
Nor baited hook deceive the fish's eye ;
Could pageantry and dance, and feast and song.
Be queird in all our summer-months' retreat ;
How many self-deluded nympths and swains.
Who dream they have a taste for fields and grovet»
Would find them hideous nurs'ries of the spleen,
And crowd the roads, impatient for the town I

i They love the country, and none else, who seek
For their own sake its silence and its shade..
Delights which who would leave, that has a heart
Susceptible of pity, or a mind
CultuPd and capable of sober thought,
For all the savage din of the swift pack,
And clamors of the field?. ...Detested sport,
That owes its pleasures to another's pain ;

\That feeds upon the sobs and dying shrieks
Of harmless nature, dumb, but yet endu'd
With eloquence, that agonies inspire,

^ Of silent tears, and heart-distending sighs I

, Vain tears, alas, and sighs, that never find
A corresponding tone in jovial souls 1

83 T9X TASK. BOOK HI.

Well....OQe at least is oafe. One ahelter'd hare
Has never beard the sang^uinary yell
Of cruel man, exulting in her woes.
Innocent partner of my peaceful home^
Whom ten long years' experience of my care
Has made at last familiar ; she has lost
Much of her vigilant instinctive dread^

' Not needful here^ beneath a roof like mine.
Yes....thou may'st eat thy bread, and lick the hand '

' That feeds thee ; thou may'st frolic on the floor
At eveningt and at night retire secure

i To thy straw couch, and slumber unalarm'd ;
For I have gain'd thy confidence, have pledged
All that is human in me to protect
Thine unsuspecting gratitude and love.
If I survive thee, I will dig thy grave ;
And, when I place thee in it, sighing, say,
I knew at least one hare that had a friend.

How various his employments, whom the world
Calls idle ; and who justly, in return.
Esteems that busy world an idler too !
Friends, books, a garden, and perhaps his pen,
Delightful industry enjoyM at home.
And nature in her cultivated trim
Dress'd to his taste, inviting him abroad....
Can he want occupation who has these ?
Will he be idle who has much t* enjoy ?
Me, therefore, stu^ous of laborious ease.
Not slothful; happy to deceive the time.
Not waste it; and aware that human life
Is but a losn to be repaid wlUi use,

BOOK III* THE SA&DEV. 93

When HE shall call his debtors to account

From whom are all our blessings; business finds

EWn here : while sedulous I seek t' improve.

At least neglect not, or leave unemploy'dy

The mind he gave me ; driving it, though sladif

Too oft, and much impeded in its work,

By causes not to be divulg'd in vain.

To its just point....the service of mankind.

He that attends his interior self,

That has a heart, and keeps it ; has a mind

That hungers, and supplies it ; and who seeks

A social, not a dissipated life.

Has business ; feels himself engag'd t' achieve

No unimportant, though a silent task.

A life all turbulence and noise, may seem.

To him that leads it, wise, and to be prais'd ;

But wisdom is a pearl, with most success

Sought in still water, and beneath clear skies.

He that is ever occupied in storms.

Or dives not for it, or brings up instead,

Vainly industrious, a disgraceful prizeu

The morning finds the self-sequester*d man.
Fresh for his task, intend what task he may.
Whether inclement seasons recommend
His warm but simple home, where he enjoys,
With her who shares his pleasure and his heart,
Sweet converse, sipping calm the fragrant lymph
Which neatly she prepares ; then to his book,
Well chosen, and not sullenly perus'd
In selfish silence, but imparted oft,
: As ought occurs that she may smile to hear,

84 Tax TASK. BOOK III.

(Or turn to nourishment, digested well.
Or, if the garden with its many cares,
All well repaid, demand him, he attends
The welcome call, conscious how much the hand
Of lubbard labor needs his watchful eye,
Oft loit'ring lazily, if not o'erseen.
Or misapplying his unskilful strength.
Nor does he govern only, or direct.
But much performs himself. No works indeed,
That ask "robust tough sinews, bred to toil^
Servile employ ; but such as may amuse,
Not tire, demanding rather skill than force.
Proud of his well-spread walls, he views his trees
That meet (no barren interval between)
With pleasure more than ev'n their fruits afford,
Which, save himself who trains them, none can feel.
These, therefore, are his own peculiar charge ;
No meaner hand may discipline the shoots.
None but his steel approach them. What Is weak,
Distemper'd, or has lost prolific pow'rs,
Impaii^'d by age, his unrelenting hand
Dooms to the knife : nor does he spare the soft
And succulent, that feeds its giant growth,
But barren, at th' expense of neighb'ring twigs
Less ostentatious, and yet studded thick
With hopeful gems. The rest, no portion left
That may flisgrace his art, or disappoint
Larg^ expectation, he disposes neat
At measur'd distances, that air and sun,
Admitted freely, may afford their aid,
And ventilate and warm the swelling buds.
Hence summer has her riches^ autumn hence^

BOOK UI* THIS GA&DXir. 85

And hence ev'n winter fills his wither'd hand
With blushing fruits, and plenty, not his own.*
Fair recbmpence of labor well bestow'd,
And wise precaution ; which a clime so rude
Makes needful still, whose spring is but the child
Of churlish winter, in her froward moods.
Discovering much the temper of her sire.
For oft, as if in her the stream of mild
Maternal nature had reversed its course.
She brings her infants forth with many smiles ;
But, once delivered, kills them with a frown.
He, therefore, timely wam'd, himself supplies
Her want of care, screening and keeping warm
The plenteous bloom, that no rough blast may sweep
His Inlands from the boughs. Again, as oft
As the sun peeps, and vernal airs breathe mild.
The fence withdrawn, he gives them ev'ry beam,
^^ And spreads his hopes before the blaze of day.

To i*aise the prickly and green-coated gourd.
So grateful to the palate, and when rare.
So coveted, else base and disesteem'd....
Food for the vulgar merely.... is an art
That toiling ages have but just matur'd.
And at this moment unessay*d in song.
Yet gnats have had, and frags and mice, long since.
Their eulogy ; those sang the Mantuan bard,
And these the Grecian, in enobling strains ;
And in thy numbers, Philips, shines for aye
The solitary shilling. Pardon, then,
Ye sage dispensers of poetic fame,

* Miraturquc novos fructus ct non sua poma....ViRG.
H

9<S THE TASK. BOOK IXX.

Th* arabition of one, meaner far, whose pow'rs,
Presuming an attempt not less sublime,
Pant for the praise of dressing to the taste
Of critic appetite, no sordid fare,
A cucumber, wliile costly yet and scarce.

The stable yields a slercoraceous heap.
Impregnated with quick fermenting salts.
And potent to resist the freezing blast:
For, ere the beech and elm have cast their lea£
Deciduous, when now November dark
Checks vegetation m the torpid plant,
ExposM to his cold breath, the task begins.
Warily, therefore, and with prudent heed,
He seeks a favor'd spot ; that where he builds
Th' agglomerated pile, his frame may fix>nt
The sun's meridian disk, and at the back
Enjoy close shelter, wall, or reeds, or hedge.
Impervious to the wind. First he bids spread
Dry fcm or litter'd hay, that may imbibe
Th' ascending damps ; then leisurely impose,
And lightly^ shaking it with agile hand
From the full fork, the saturated straw.
What longest binds the closest, fonns secure
The shapely side, that, as it rises, takes,
By just degrees, an overhanging breadth,
Shell' ling the base with its projected eaves.
Th' uplifted frame, compact at ev'ry joint,
And overlaid with clear translucent glass^
He settles next upon the sloping mount)
Whose sharp declivity shoots oif secure^
From the dash'd pane, the deluge as it falls.

fOOK III. TflE GARDEir. 9T

He shuts it close, and the first labor ends.
Thrice must the voluble and restless earth
Spin round upon her axle, ere the warmth,
Slow gathering in the midst, through the square

mass
DifTus'd, attain the surface : when, behold I
A pestilent and most corTOsive steam,
Like a gross fog Boeotian, rising fast.
And fast condens'd upon the dewy sash.
Asks egress ; which obtain 'd, the overcharg'd
And drench'd conservatory breuthes abroad,
In volumes wheeling slow, the vapor danjcy
And, purified^ rejoices to have lost
Its foul inhabitant. But to assuage
Th* impatient fervor which it first conceives
Within its reeking bosom, thrcat'ning death
To his yoiuig hopes, requires discreet delay.
Experience, slow preceptress, teaching oft
The way to glory by miscarriage foul.
Must prompt him, and admonish how to catch
Th' auspicious moment, when the tempered heat,
Friendly to vital motion, may afford
Soft fomentation, and invite the seed.
The seed, selected wisely, plump, and smooth,
And glossy, he commits to pots of size
Diminutive, well fill'd with well prepared
And fruitful soil, that has been treasur'd long.
And drank no moisture from the dripping clouds ;
These on the warm and genial earth, that hides
The smoking manure, and o'erspreads it all^
He places lightly, and, as time subdues
The rage of fermentatioDy plunges deep

8a TKK TABS. AOOK 111*

In the soft medium, till they stand immers'd.

Then rise the tender germS) upstarting quicks

And spreading wide their spongy lobes ; at first

Pale, wan, and lived ; but assuming soon.

If fann'd by balmy and nutritious air,

Sirain'd through the friendly mats, a vivid green.

Two leaves produced, two rough indented leaves^

Cautious, he pinches from the second stalk

A pimple, that portends a future sprout.

And interdicts its growth. Thence straight succeed

The branches, sturdy to his utmost wish.

Prolific all, and harbingers of more.

The crowded roots demand enlargement now«

And transplantation in an ampler space.

Indulg'd in what they wish, they soon supply

Large foliage, overshadowing golden flow'rs,

Dlown on the summit of th' apparent fruit.

These have their sexes ; and, when summer shinesi

The bee transports the fertilizing meal

From flow'r to flow'r, and ev'n the breathing air

Wafts tlie rich prize to its appointed use.

Not so when winter scowls. Assistant art

Then acts in nature's ofiice, brings to pass

The glad espousals, and ensures the crop.

Grudge not, ye rich, (since luxury must have
His dionties, and the world's more numerous half
lives by contriving delicates for you)
Grudge not the cost. Ye little know the carea^
The vigilance, the labor, and the skill.
That day and night are exercisM, and hang
Upon the ticklish balance of suspensei

BOOK IK. THE dlRDEir. 89

That ye may garnish your profuse regales,

With summer fruits, brought forth by wintry suns.

Ten thousand dangers lie in wait to thwart

The process. Heat, and cold, and wind, and steam.

Moisture and drought, mice, worms, and swarming

flics,
Minute as dust, and numberless, oh work
Dire disappointment that admits no cure.
And which no care can obviate. It were long}
Too long, to tell th' expedients and the shifts,
Which he that fights a season so severe
Devises, while he guards his tender trust.
And of^, at last, in vain. The leam'd and wise^
Sarcastic would exclaim, and judge the song
Cold as its theme, and like its theme, the fruit
Of too much labor, worthless when produced.

Who loves a garden, loves a greenhouse too.
Unconscious of a less propitious clime.
There blooms exotic beauty, warm and snug.
While the winds wliistlc, and the snows descend.
The spiry myrtle, with unwith'ring leaf.
Shines there, and flourishes. The golden boast
Of Portugal, and western India there.
The ruddier orange, and the paler lime,
Peep through their polish 'd foliage at the storm,
And seem to smile at what they need not fear.
Th* amomum there with intermingling flow'rs.
And cherries, hangs her twigs. Geranium boast»
Her crimson honors, and the spangled beau,
Ficoides, glitters bright the winter long. •
All plants^ of ev'ry leaf, that can endure

90 THB TASK. BOOK III.

The >>inter's frowni if screened from his shrewd bttct

Live there, aiid prosper. Those Ausonia ciaimsi

Levantine regions these ; the Azores send

Their jessamine, her jessamine remote

Caffraria : foreigners from many lands,

They form one social shade, as if convened

By magic summons of th' Orphean lyre.

Yet just arrangement, rarely brought to pass^

But by a master's hand, disposing well

The gay diversities of leaf and flow'r.

Must lend its aid t' illustrate all their charms^

And dress the regular yet various scene.

Plant behind plant aspiring, in the van

The dwarfish, in the rear retir'd, but still

Sublime above the rest, the statelier stand.

So once were rang'd the sons of ancient Rome^

A noble show ! while Roscius trod the stage ;

And SO) while Garrick, as i*enown'd as he>

The Sons of Albion ; fearing each to lose

Some note of nature's music fix>m his lipS)

yVnd covetous of Shakespeare's beauty, seen

In cv'ry flash of his fair-beaming eye.

Nor taste alone, and well-contriv'd display,

Suflice to give the marshaU'd ranks the grace

Of their complete effect. Much yet remainik

Unsung, and many cares are yet behind,

And more laborious ; cares on which depend

Their vigor, injur'd soon, not soon restored.

The soil must be renew'd, which, often wash'dy

I .OSes its ti*easure of salubrious salts,

And disappoints the roots ; the slender roots

Close interwoven, where they meet the vase.

BOOK nU TBS OAEl>mK. 91

Must smooth be shorn away ; the sapless branch
Must fly before the knife ; the withered leaf
Must be detach'd, and where it strews the floor
Swept with a woman's neatness, breeding else
Contagion, and disseminating death.
Discharge but these kind offices, (and who
Would spare, that loves them, offices like these ?)
Well they reward the toil. The sight is pleas'di
The scent regard, each odorif 'rous leaf,
Each op'ning blossom, freely breathes abroad
Its gratitude, and thanks him with its sweets.

So manifold, all pleasing in their kind,
All healthful, are th' employs of rural life>
Reiterated as the wheel of time
Runs round ; still ending, and beginning still.
Nor are these all. To deck the shapely knolI>
That, softly swell'd and g^ly dress'd, appears
A flow*ry island, from the dark green lawn
Emerging, must be deem'd a labor due
To no mean hand, and asks the touch of taste.
Here also, grateful mixture of well-match'd
And sorted hues, (each giving each relief,
And by contrasted beauty shining more)
Is needful. Strength may wield the pond'rous spade^
May turn the clod^ and wheel the compost home ;
But elegance, chief grace the garden shows,
And most attractive, is the fair result
Of thought, the creature of a polish'd mind.
Without it, all i& Gothic as the scene
To which th* insipid citizen resorts.
Near ypnder hea^ ; where industry mis-^pcnty

t

9S TBE TASC. BOOK ttt.

But proud of bis uncouth ill-chosen task.

Has made a heav'n on earth ; with suns and moons

Of close-ramm'd stones has charged th* encumbered

soil,
And fairly Isdd the zodiac in the dust.
He, therefore, who would see his flow*rs disposed
Sightly, and in just order, ere he gives
The beds the trusted treasure of their seeds,
Forecasts the future whole ; that, when the scene
Shall break into its preconceiv'd display^
Each for itself, and all as with one voice
Conspiring, may attest his bright design.
Nor ev'n then, dismissing as performed.
His pleasant work, may he suppose it done.
Few self-supported flow'rs endure the windy
Uninjur'd, but expect th* upholding aid
Of the smooth-shaven prop, and, neatly tied.
Are wedded thus, like beauty to old age.
For interest sake, the living to the dead.
Some clothe the soil that feeds them, for diffus'd;
And lowly creeping, modest, and yet fair.
Like virtue, thriving most where little seen :
Some, more aspiiing, catch the neighbor shrub
With clasping tendrils, and invest his branch,
Else unadom'd, with many a gay festoon,
And fragrant chaplet, recompensing well
The strength they borrow, with the grace they lend*
All hate the rank society of weeds,
Koisome, and ever greedy to exhaust
Th* impoverish*d earth ; an over-bearing race,
That, like the multitude made faction mad,
Disturb good order, and degrade true worth.

BOOK III* THE GAaD£K. 9S

Oh) blest secluflion from a jarring worlds
Which he, thus occupied, enjoys ! Retreat
Cannot indeed to guilty man restore
Lost innocence, or cancel follies past ;
But it has peace, and much secures the mind
From all assaults of evil ; proving still
A faithful barrier, not o'erleap'd with ease^
By vicious custom, raging uncontroU'd
Abroad) and desolating public life.
When fierce temptation, seconded within
By traitor appetite, and arm'd with darts
Tcmper'd in hell, invades the throbbing breast^
To combat may be glorious, and success
Perhaps may crown us ; but to fly is safe.
Had I the choice of sublunary good,
What could I wish, that I possess not here ?
Health, leisure, means t' improve it, friendship)

peace,
No loose or wanton, though a wand' ring, musey
And constant occupation, without care.
Thus blest, I draw a picture of that bliss ;
Hopeless, indeed, that dissipated minds>
And profligate abusers of a world.
Created fair so much in vain for them,
Should seek the guiltless joys that I describe^
Allur'd by my report : but sure no less,
That, aelf-condemn'd, they must neglect the prize^
And what they will not taste, must yet approve.
What we admire we praise ; and, when we praise^
Advance it into notice, that, its worth
Acknowledg'd, others may admire it too.
I therefore recommendi though at the risk

94 VHE TASK. BOOK IH

Of popular disgust, yet boldly still,
The cause of piety and sacred truth,
And virtue, and those scenes which God ordain'd
Should best secure them, and promote them most;
Scenes that I love, and with regret perceive
Forsaken, or through folly not enjoy'd.
(Pure is the nymph, though libVal of her smilesj
(And chaste, though unconfin'd, whom I extol.
Not as the prince in Shushan, when he call'd,
Vain-glorious of her charms, his Vashti forth;
To grace the full parillion. His design
Was but to boast his own peculiar good,
Wliich all might view with envy, none partake.
My charmer is not mine alone ; my sweetS)
And she that sweetens all my bitters too.
Nature, enchanting nature, in whose form
And lineaments divine, I trace a hand
That errs not, and find raptures still rencw'd,
Is free to all men. ...universal prize.
Strange, that so fair a creature should yet want
Admirers, and be dcstin'd to divide
With meaner objects, ev'n the few she finds !
Strip'd of her ornaments, her leaves and flow'rs,
She loses all her influence. Cities then
Attract us, and neglected nature pines,
Abandon*d, as unworthy of our love.
But are not wholesome airs, though unperfum'd
By roses ; and clear suns, though scarcely felt ;
And groves, if unharmonious, yet secure
From clamor, and whose very silence charms;
To be prefer'd to smoke, to the eclipse
Tbitt Metropolitao yolcanoes make^

BOOK III. THE 6A&DSV. 95

Whose Stygian throats breathe darkness all day long.

And to the stir of commerce, driving slow,

And thund'ring loud, with his ten thousand wheels?

They would be, were not madness in the head>

And folly in the heart ; were England now,

What England was, plain, hospitable, kind,

And undebduch'd. But we have bid farewel

To all the virtues of those better days.

And all their honest pleasures. Mansions once

Knew their own masters ; and laborious hinds^

Who had sur^dv'd the father, serv'd the son.

Now the legitimate and rightful lord,

Is but a transient guest, newly arriv'd.

And soon to be supplanted. He that saw

His patrimonial timber cast its leaf.

Sells the last scantling, and tranfers the price

To some shrewd sharper, ere it buds again.

Estates are landscapes, gaz'd upon a while,

Then advertized, and auctioneer^ away.

The country starves, and they that feed th* o'er-

charg'd
And surfeited lewd town with her fair dues.
By a just judgment, strip and starve themselves.
The wingpi that waft our riches out of sight.
Grow on the gamester's elbows ; and th' alert
And nimble motion of those restless joints,
That never tire, soon fans them all away.
Improvement, too, the idol of the age.
Is fed with many a victim. Lo, he comes !
Th' omnipotent magician. Brown, appears !
Down falls the venerable pile, th' abode
Qf our foreiather8....a grave whisker'd race>

9iS THS TASK. BOOK III.

But tasteless. Springs a palace in its stead.

But in a distant spot ; where, more exposM,

It may enjoy th' advantage of the north.

And aguish east, till time shall have transformed

Those naked acres to a shel'tring grove.

He speaks, the lake in front becomes a lawn ;

Woods vanish, hills subside, and valleys rise ;

And streams, as if created for his use.

Pursue the track of his directing wand ;

Sinuous or straight, now rapid, and now slow,

Now murm'ring soft, now roaring in cascades....

Ev'n as he bids I Th' enraptur'd owner smiles.

'Tis finish'd, and yet, finish'd as it seems.

Still wants a grace, the loveliest it could show,

A mine to satisfy th' enormous cost.

DrainM to the last poor item of his wealth.

He sighs, departs, and leaves th' accomplish'd plan

That he has touch' d, retouch'd, many a long day

Labor'd, and many a night pursu'd in dreams.

Just when it meets his hopes, and proves the heav*n

He wanted, for a wealthier to enjoy !

And now perhaps the glorious hour is come,

When, having no stake left, no pledge t' endear

Her int'rests, or that gives her sacred cause

A moment's operation on his love,

He bums with most intense and flagrant zeal

To serve his country. Ministeiial grace.

Deals him out money from the public chest ;

Or, if that mine be shut, some private purse

Supplies his need with an usurious loan,

To be refunded duly, when his vote,

Well-manag'd, shall have eam'd its worthy price.

•eOft Itf. THE OARDEK. 97

Oh innocent, compar'd with arts like these.
Crape, and cock*d pistol, and the whistling ball
Sent through the travellers temples ! He that finds
One drop of Heav'n's sweet mercy in his cup,
Can dig, beg, rot, and perish, well content,
So he may wrap himself in honest rags.
At his last gasp ; but could not for a world,
Fish up his dirty and dependent bread,
From p>ools and ditches of the commonwealth,
Sordid and sickening at his own success.

Ambition, av'rice, penury incurr'd

By endless riot, vanity, the lust

Of pleasure and variety, dispatch.

As duly as the swallows disappear,

The world of wand' ring knights and squires to town.

London ingulphs them all ! The shark is there.

And the shark's prey ; the spendthrift, and the leech

That sucks him. There the sycophant, and he,

Who, with bare-headed and obsequious bows.

Begs a warm office, doom'd to a cold jai!.

And groat per diem, if his patron frown.

The levee swarms, as if, in golden pomp.

Were character'd on ev'ry statesman's door,

" Battered and bankrufit fortunes mnided hercP

These are the charms that sully and eclipse

The charms of nature. 'Tis the cruel gripe.

That lean hard-handed poverty inflicts^

The hope of better things, the chance to win,

The wish to shine, the thirst to be amus'd.

That at the sound of winter's hoary wing.

Unpeople all our countries, of such herds,

I

M THE TASK. BOOK XI

Of fiutt'iing, loit^iing, clinging^ begging, loose,
And wanton vagrants, as make London, vast
And boundless as it is, a crowded coop.

Oh thou resort and mart of all the earth,
Chequered with all complexions of mankind,
And spotted with all crimes ; in whom I see
Much that I love, and more that I admire,
And all that I abhor ; thou freckl'd fair.
That pleasest, and yet shock'st me, I can laughy
And I can weep, can hope, and can despond.
Feel wrath, and pity, when I think on thee I
Ten righteous would have sav'd a city once,
And thou hast many righteou8....Well for thee...*
That salt preserves thee ; more corrupted else.
And therefore more obnoxious, at this hour,
Than Sodom, in her day, had pow'r to be.
For whom God heard his Ab'ram plead in vain.

THE TASK,

BOOK. IV.

AKGU>1ENT OP THE FOURTH BOOK.

The post coraen in....The newn-paper b raAd....The world eont/dD^
plited at a distanee.... Address to winter....The romlamuiemeiili
of a winter evening compared with the fashionable oiie8.».Ad«
dress to eTcning....A brown study... Jail of snow in the eTening....*
The waggoner....A poor family pie«e....The rural Uiief»..Pobli%^
houses.. ..The multitude of them censured—.The fkrraer'adMi^*
ten: M'liat site was....\vhat she i8....The si mpUoitj of country mao*
ncrs almost lost.... Causes of the change....De8crtJon of the ooun-
trj by tbe rich....Neglcct of mftgi8trates....The mfliUa prineipal-
ly in fauIt....The new reci;^t, and his tranafbrmation^Jtoflecdoii^
on IxKlics corporate....The love of rural objecU natiirU to nil,
and never to be totally extinguished.

1
. >

THE TASK.

BOOK JV.

THE WINTER EVENING.

Hark ! 'tis the twanging horn o'er yonder bridg^>

That with its wearisome, but needful leng^i>

Bestrides the wintry flood, in which the moon

Sees her unwrinkled face reflected bright ;

He comes, the herald of a noisy world,

With spatterM boots, strapped waist, and frozen

locks;

News firom all nations lumb'ring at his back.

True to his charge, the close-pack'd load behind,

Yet careless what he brings, his one concern

Is to conduct it to its destin'd imi,

And) haying dropp'd the expected bag, pass on.

He whistles as he goes, light-hearted wretch.

Cold and yet cheerful : messenger of grief

Perhaps to thousands, and of joy to some ;

To him indiff 'rent, whether grief or joy.

Houses in ashes, and the fall of stocks.

Births, deaths, and marriages^ epistles wet

With tears, that trickled down the writei-'s cheeks^

Fast as the periods £rom his fluent quill.

Or charg'd with am.'rou8 siighs of absent swains,.

i3

103 THE TASK. BOOK IV.

Or Nymphs responsive, equally afiect
His horse and him, unconscious of them all.
But oh the important budget ! usher'd in
With such heart-shaking music, who can say
What arc its tidings ? have our troops awakM ?
Or do they still, as if with opium drugg'd,
Snore to the murmurs of th' Atlantic wave ?
Is India free ? and does she wear her plum'd
And jewell'd turban with the smile of peace t
Or do wc grind her still ? The grand debate^
The popular harrangue, the tart reply,
The logic, and the wisdom, and the Mrit,
And the loud laugh....! long to know them all ;
I burn to set th' imprison'd wranglers free,
And give them voice and utterance once again.

Now stir the fire, and close the shutters faast.
Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round,
And, while the bubbling and loud-hissing urn
Thi'ows up a steamy column, and the cups^
That cheer, but not inebriate, wait on each ;^
So let us welcome peaceful evening in.
Not such his ev'ning, who with shining fac6^
Sweats in the crowded theatre, and squeezM^
And bor'd, with elbow-points, through both his sides.
Out-scolds the ranting actor on the stage:
Nor his, who patient stands till his feet throb.
And his head thumps, to feed upon the breath
Of patriots, bursting with heroic rage.
Or placemen, all tranquility and smiles.
This folio of four pages, happy woriL !
Which not ev'n critics criticise ; that holds

BOOK IT* THE WINTSA ST^HIKG. 103

Inquisitive attentiony while I read.

Fast bound in chains of silence, which the fair,

Though eloquent themseWes, yet fear to break ;

What is it, but a map of busy life.

Its fluctuations, and its vast concerns?

Here runs the mountainous and craggy ridgo

That tempts amUtion. On the summit, see,

The seals of office glitter in his eyes ;

He climbs, he pants, he grasps them 1 At his heels»

Close at his heels, a demagogue ascends,

And with a dex'trous jerk, soon twists him dowot

And wins them, but to lose them in his turn.

Here rills of oily eloquence in sofi

Meanders, lubricate the course they take ;

The modest ^>eaker is ashamM and griev'd

T' ingross a moment's notice, and jret begs.

Begs a propitious ear for his poor thoughts,

However trivial, all that he conceives.

Sweet bashfulness I it claims at least this praise ;

The dearth of information, and good sense,

That it foretels us, always comes to pass.

Cat'racts of declamation thunder here ;

There forests of no meaning spread the page»

In which all comprehension wanders, lost ;

While fields of pleasantry amuse us there.

With merry descants on a nation's woes.

The rest appears a wilderness of strange>^ .

But gay confusion ;. roses for the cheeks,

And lilies for the brows of faded age.

Teeth for the toothless, ringlets for the bald,

Heav'n, earth, and ocean, plundcr'd of their sweets,

Nectareous essences, Olympian dewS)

104 ITBSTASK. BOOK IV.

SermonS) and city feasts, and foy'iite airs,
Ethereal joumies, submarine explmts,
And Katterfelto, with his hair on end,
At his own wonders, wond'ring; for his bread*

*Tis pleasant, through the loop-holes of retreat,
To peep at such a world ; to see the stir
Of the great Babel, and not feel the crowd ;
To hear the roar she sends through all her gatesy
At a safe distance, where the dying sound
Falls a soft murmur on th' uninjur'd ear.
Thus sitting, and surye3ring thus at ease,
The globe and its concerns, I seem advanced
To some secure, and more than mortal height,
That liberates and exempts me from them all.
It turns, submitted to my view, turns rounds
With all its generations ; I behold
The tumult, and am still. The sound of war
Has lost its terrors, ere it reaches me ;
Grieves, but alarms me not. I mourn the pride
And av'rice that make man a wolf to man ;
Hear the fiednt echo of those brazen throats,
By which he speaks the language of his hearty.
And ugh, but never tremble at the sounds.
He travels and expatiates, as the bee.
From flow'r to fiow'c, so he from land to land ;
The manners, customs, policy of all.
Pay contribution to the store he gleans ;
He sucks intelligence in ev'ry clime,
And spreads the honey of his deep research
At his retum...4i rich repast for me.
He travels; and I too. I tread his deck>

BOOE IV. THE WINTXB KVaUriNG. 105^

Ascend his topmast^ through hi» peering eyea
Discover countries) with a kindred hearty - ■
Suffer his woes, and share in his eso^MS^
While &ncy9 like the finger of a clock, '•

Runs the great circuit, and is still at home.

Oh Winter! ruler of th' inverted year,
Thy scatter'd hair, with sleet like ashes fill'dy (

Thy breath congeal'd upon thy lipe, thy cheeks
Fring'd with a beard, made white with other inowv
Than those of age ; thy forehead wrapt in cloudS)
A leafless branch thy sceptre, and thy throBOf
A sliding car, indebted to no wheels.
But urg'dby sttHins along its sUpp'ry way,
I love thee, all unlovely as thou seeok'st.
And dreaded as thou ait ! Thou hold'st the sun
A prisoner in the yet undawning east,
Short'niiig his journey between mom and nooO}
And hurrying him, impatient of his stay,
Down to the rosy west ; but kindly, stiU
Compensating his loss with added hours ^

Of social converse, and instructive ease.
And gatl^'ring, at short notice, in one group,
The family dispers'd, and fixing thought,
Not less dispersed by day light and its cares.
I crown t))ee king of intimate delights,
Fire-side enjoyments, home-bom luqipinessi
And all the comforts that the lowly roof
Of undistut*b'd retirement, and the hours
Of long uninterrupted ev'ning, know. . .

No rattling wheels stop short beiore these gates j)
No powder'd pert proficient iQ the art

105 THE TASK. BOOK I^

Of sounding an alarm, assaults these doors
Till the street rings ; no stationaiy steeds
Cough their own kneli} while, heedless of the sounc
The silent circle &n themselvesi and quake:
But here the needle plies its busy task,
The pattern grows, the well depicted flow'ry
Wrought patiently into the snowy lawn.
Unfolds its bosom ; buds, and leaves, and sprigsj
And curling tendrils, gracefully dispos'd,
Follow the nimble finger of the fair ;
A wreath that cannot fade, of flo w'rs that blow
With most success, when all besides decay.
The poet*s or hbtorian's page, by one
Made vocal for th' amusement of the rest ;
The sprightly lyre, whose treasure of sweet soundi
The touch, from many a trembling chord shakes out
And the clear vcuce, symphonious, yet distinct^
And in the charming strife triumphant still ;
Beguile the night, and set a keener edg^
On female industry ; the threaded steel
Flies swiftly, and, unfeJt, the task proceeds;
The volume clos'd, the customary rites
Of the last meal commence. A Roman meal;
Such as the mistress of the world once found
Delicious, when her patriots of high note,
Perhaps by moon-light, at their humble doors,
And under an old oak's domestic shade,
EnjoyM....spare feast ! a radish and an egg 1
Discourse ensues, not trivial, yet not dull,
Nor such as with a frown, forbids the play
Of fancy, or proscribes the sound of mirth :
Nor do we madlyy like an impious worid.

BOOK IV. THE WINTEA ETSNINO.^ 107

Who deem religion frenzy, and the God

That made them, an intnider on their jofs,

Start at his awful name, or deem his praise

A jarring, note. Themes of a graver tone,

Excidng of^ our gratitude and lore,

While we retrace, with memory's pointing wand,

That calls the past to our exact review,

The dangers we have *scap'd, the broken snare.

The disappointed foe, deliv*rance found

Unlook'd for, life preserved and peace restored....

Fruits of omnipotent eternal love.

Oh ev^ungs, worthy of the gods ! exclaimed

The Sabine bard. Oh ev'nings, I reply,

More to be priz'd and coveted than yours,

As more illum'd, and with nobler truths.

That I and mine, and those we love, enjoy.

Is winter hideous in a garb like this ?
Needs he the tragic fur, the smoke of lamps,
The pent-up breath of an unsav'ry throng,
1*0 thaw him into feeling ; or the smart
And snapjnsh dialogue, that flippant wits
Call comedy, to prompt him with a smile ?
The self-complacent actor, when he views
(Stealing a side-long glance at a full house)
The slope of faces, from the floor to th' roof,
(As if one master-spring controPd them all)
Relax'd into an universal grin.
Sees not a count'nance there that speaks a joy.
Half so refin'd, or so sincere as ours.
Cards were superfluous here, with all the tricks
That idletiesa has ever yet contrived,

108 TBft*^iM». WO^K IT.

To fill the vMxt-m unfiimishM bnuby
To palliate dulneBSy and give time a shove.
Time, as he passes us, has a dove's wing^,
Unsoil'd> and swifit, and of a silken sound ;
But the world's time^ is time in masquerade !
Theirs, should I paint him, has his pinions fledg'd
With motley plumes ; and where the peacock shows
His azure eyes, b tinctured black and red,
With spots quadrangidar, of di'mond form^
Ensanguined hearts, clubs typical of strife,
And spades, the emblem of untimely graves.
What should be, and what was, an hour-glass oncey
Becomes a dice-box, and a billiard mast
Well does the work of his destructive sc3rthe.
Thus deck'd, he charms a world, whom fashion blinds
To his true worth, most pleas'd, when idle most ;
Whose only happy, are their wasted hours.
Ev'n misses, at whose age their mothers wore
The back-string and the bib, assume the dress
Of womanhood, sit pupils in the school
Of card-devoted time, and, night by night,
Plac'd at some vacant comer of the board,
Learn ev'ry trick, and soon play all the game.
But truce with censure. Roving, as I rove^
Where shall I find an end, or how proceed ?
As he that travels £u\ qft turns aside,
To view some JVgged ftt^k, or mould'ring tow'r.
Which seen, delights^hiatk not ; then, coming hornet
Describesand prints it, that the world may know
How &r he went for what iras nothing worth;
So I, with bniahiaiiand, and pallet spread^
With colours xnix'd £»* a fiur ^'rent iiie»

BOOK IT. THfi WINTlER EVENING. 109

Paint cards, and dolls, and ev*ry idle thing,
That hncy finds in her excursive flights.

Come, Ev'ning, once again, season of peace ;
Return, sweet Ev'ning, and continue long !
Methinks I see thee in the streaky west,
With matron-step, slow-moving, while the night
Treads on thy sweeping train ; one hand cmploy'd
In letting fall the curtain of repose
On hied and beast, the other charg'd for man,
With sweet oblivion of the cares of day :
Not sumptuously adorn 'd, nor needing aid.
Like homely featur'd night, of clustering gems ;
A star or two, just twinkling on thy brow.
Suffices thee ; save, that the moon is thine
No less than hers, not worn indeed on high.
With ostentatious pageantry, but set
With modest grandeur, in thy purple zone.
Resplendent less, but of an ampler round.
Come then, and thou shalt find thy vot'ry calm,
Or make him so. Composure is thy gift ;
And, whether I devote thy gentle hours
To books, to music, or the poet's toil ;
To weaving nets for bird-alluring fruit ;
Or twining silken threads round iv'iy reels,
When they command, whom man was born to please ;
I slight thee not, but make thee welcome still.

Just when our drawing-rooms begin to blaze
With lights, by clear reflection multiplied
From many a mirror, in which he of Gath,
Goliabi might have seen his mighty bulk

110 THK TASK. BOOK XV.

Whole, without stooping, tow'ring crest and all.
My pleasures, too, begin. But me, perhaps^
The glowing hearth may satisfy a while
With fuint illumination, that uplifts
The shadow to the ceiling, there by fits
Dancing uncouthly to the quiv'ring fiame.
Not undelightful is an hour to me
So spent in parlor twilight : such a gloom
Suits well the thoughtful, or unthinking mindy
The mind contemplative, with some new theme
Pregnant, or indispos'd alike to all.
Laugh ye, who boast your more mercurial pow*r8,
That never feel a stupor, know no pause.
Nor need one : I am conscious, and confess,
Fearless, a soul that does not always think.
Mc oft has fancy, ludicrous and wild,
Sooth'd with a waking dream of houses, tow'rs,
Trees, churches, and strange visages, express'd
In the red cinders, while with poring eye
I gaz'd, myself creating what I saw.
Nor less amusM have I, quiescent, watch'd
The sooty films that play upon the bars.
Pendulous, and foreboding, in the view
Of superstition, prophesying still.
Though still deceived, some stranger's near ap-
proach.
*Tis thus the understanding takes repose,
In indolent vacuity of thought, '
And sleeps and is refreshed. Meanwhile the &ce
Conceals the mood lethargic, with a mask
Of deep deliberation, as the man
Were task'd to bis &U strengtbf absoiVd nod lost

BOOK IT. THE WnrrER EVENING. lit

Thus oft, reclin'd at ease, I lose an hour
At evening, till at length the freezing blast,
That sweeps the bolted shutter, summons home
The recollected pow'rs ; and, snapping short
The glassy threads, with which the fancy weaves
Her brittle toys, restorcs me to myself.
How calm is my recess ; and how the frost,
Raging abroad^ and the rough wind, endear
The silence and the warmth, enjoy'd within !
I saw the woods and fields, at close of day,
A variegated sho^v ; the meadows green,
Though faded ; and the lands, where lately wav*d
The golden harvest, of a mellow brown,
Uptum'd so lately by the forceful share.
I saw far off the weedy fallows smile
With verdure, not unprofitable, graz'd
By flocks, fust feeding, and selecting each
His fov'rite herb ; while all the leafless groves^
That skirt th' horizon, wore a sable hue,
Scarce notic'd, in the kindred dusk of eve.
To-morrow brings a change, a total change I
Which even now, though silently perform*d,
And slowly, and by most unfelt, the face
Of universal nature undergoes.
Fast falls a fleecy show'r : the downy flakes,
Descending, and with never-ceasing lapse,
Softly alighting upon all below,
Assimulate all objects. Earth receives.
Gladly, the thick'ning mantle ; and the green
And tender blade, that fear'd the chilling blasts
Escapes unhurt beneath so warm a veil.

112 THE TASK. BOOK IT.

In such a world ; so thorny^ and where none
Fuids happiness unblighted ; or, if fonnd^
Without some thistly sorrow at its side ;
It seems the part of wisdom, and no sin
Against the law of love, to measure lota
AVith less disting^sh'd than ourselves ; that thus,
AVc may with patience, bear our moderate ill8>
And sympathise with others, suff'rin^ more.
Ill ffircs the traveler now, and he that stalks
In ponderous boots, beside his reeking team.
The 'W'ain goes heavily, impeded sore
By congregated loads, adhering close
To the cIogg*d wheels ; and in its sluggish pace,
Noiseless, appears a moving hill of snow.
'i'hc toiling steeds expand the nostril wide.
While cv'17 breath, by re^iration strong^
Foi c'd downward, is consolidated soon
U]}on their jutting chests. He, form'd to bear
The pelting brunt of the tempestuous night,
With half-shut eyes, and pucker'd cheeks, and teetti
Presented bare against the st<H*m, plods on.
One hand secures his hatt save when with both
He brandishes his pliant length of whip,
Resounding oft, and never heard in vain.
Oh happy ; and, in my account, denied
That senaiUlity of pain, with which
Refinement is endued, thrice happy thou !
Thy frame, robust and hardy, feels indeed
The piercing cold, but feels it unimpaired.
The learned finger never need explore
Thy vig'rous pulse ; and the unhealthful east,
That breathes the spleen, and searches ev'ry bone

BOOK IV. THE WINTER EVEKIXCr. H

Of the infimi) is wholesome air to thee.
Thy days roll on, exempt from household care ;
Thy waggon is thy wife ; and the poor beasts^
That drag the dull companion to and froy
Thine helpless charge, dependent on thy care.
Ah, treat them kindly ! rude as thou appears'tf
Yet show that thou hast mercy I which the greatf '
With needless hurry, whirl'd from place to places
Humane as they would seem, not always show.

Poor, yet industrious, modest, quiet, neat ;

Such claim compassion in a night like this,

And have a friend in ev'ry feeling heart.

Wann'd, while it lasts, by labor, all day long

They brave the season, and yet find at eve,

111 clad and fed but sparely, time to cool.

The frugal housewife trembles when she lights

Her scanty stock of brush-wood, blazing clear)

But dying soon, like all terrestrial joys.

The few small embers left, she nurses well ;

And, while her infant race, with outspread hands^

And crowded knees, set cow'ring o'er the spariis,

Retires) content to quake, so they be warm*d.

The man feels least, as more inur'd than she

To winter, and the current in his veins

More briskly mov'd by his severer toil ;

Yet he, too, finds his own distress in theirs.

The taper soon extinguished, which I saw /

Dangled along at the cold finger's end

Just when the day declin'd, and the brown loaf

Lodg'd on the shelf, half eaten, withont sauce^

Of aay'ry cheese, or butter, costlier still ;

k2

1 U THE TASK. BOOR tV«

Sleep seems their only refnge ; tor, alasy

Where penury is felt, the thought is chsdn'df

And sweet coloquial pleasures are but few 1

With all this thrift, they thrive not. All the car©

Ingenious parsimony takes, but just

Saves the small inventory, bed, and stool,

Skillet, and old carv'd chest, from public sale.

They live, and live- without extorted alms,

From grrudgtng hands ; but other boasts have none^

To sooth their honest pride, that scorns to beg,

Nor cOmibrt else, but in their mutual love.

I praise you much, ye meek and patient pair.

For ye are worthy ; choosing rather far

A dry, but independent crust, hard eam'dt

And eaten with a sigh, than to endure

The rugged frowns, and insolent rebuffs

Of knaves in office, partial in the work

Of distribution ; lib'ral of their aid

To clani'rous importunity in rags,

But oft times deaf to suppliants, who would blush

To wear a tatter'd garb, however coarse,

Whom famine cannot reconcile to filth :

These ask with painful shyness, and, refus'dy

Because deserving, silently retire !

But be ye of good courage I Time itself

Shall much befriend you. Time shall give increase ;

And all your num'rous progeny, well tndn'd,

But helpless, in few years shall find their hands^

And labor too. Meanwhile ye shall not want^

What, conscious of your virtues, we can sparer

Sot what a wealthier than ourselves may send.

BOOK IV. THB wf^rrsa BVtNiira. 1 U

I mean the mm^ who, when the distant poor
Need help) denies them nothing but hia name.

But poverty^ with moat* who whimper forth
Their long complaints, is self4nflicted woe ;
Th' effect of laziness, or sottish waste.
Now goea the* nightly thief prowling abroad
For plunder; much sc^citous how best
He may compensate for a day of slodi,
By works of darkness, and nocturnal wrong;
Woe to the gard'ner's pale, the farmer's hedgey
Plash'd neatly, and secur'd with driven stakes^
Deep in the loamy bank. Uptom by strength,
Resistless in so bad a cause, but lame
To better deeds, he bundles up the spoU....
An ass's burthen....and, when laden most,
And heaviest, light of foot, steals fast away.
Nor does the boarded hovel better guard
The well-stack'd pile of riven logs and roots
Frcnar his pernicious force. Nor will he leave
Unwrench'd the door, however well secur'd,
Where Chanicleer, amidst his haram sleeps
In unsuspecting pomp. Twitch'd from the perchy
He gives the princely bird, with all his wives,
To his voracious bag, struggling in vain.
And loudly wond^rmg at the sudden change.
Nor this to feed his own ! 'Twere some excuse,
Did pity of their sufferings, warp aside
His principle, and tempt him into sin
For their support, so destitute....But they,
Neglected, pine at home ; themselves, aamore
Expos'd than others^ with less scruple made

Ill THE TASK. MOK lY.

His victimSf robb'd of their defencekss all.

Cruel is idl he does. 'Tis quenchless thirst

Of ruinous ebriety, that prompts

His ey'ry action^ and imbmtes ihe man.

Oh for a law, to noose the nliain's neck.

Who stanres his own ; who persecutes the blood

He gave them in his children's veins^ and hatea

And wrongs the woman* he has sworn to love I

Pass where we may, through city, or through towiv
Village! or hamlet, of this merry land.
Though lean and beggar'd, ev'iy twentieth pacOf
Conducts th' unguarded nose to such a whiff
Of stale debauch, forth-issuing fix>m the styes
That law has licensM, as makes temp'rance reel-
There sit, involved and lost in curling clouds
Of Indian fiime, and guzzling deepy the boor.
The lacquey, and the groom: the craftsman there^
Takes a Lethaean leave of all his toO ;
Smith, cobbler, joiner, he that plies the shearsf
And he that kneeds the dough ; all loud aUke* -
All learned, and all drunk 1 The fiddle screams^
Plaintive and piteous, as it wept and wail*d
Its wasted tones and harmony unheard:
Fierce the dispute, whatever the theme ; while ahe^
Fell Discord, arbitress of such debate,
Perch'd on the sign-post, holds with even hand
Her undecisive scales. In thb she lasrs
A weight of ignorance ; in that of pride ;
And smiles, delighted with th' eternal poise*
Dire is the frequent curse, and ks twin sound*.
The cheek-distending oath^ not to be praia'd

BOOK SV. THE WINTER EVENING. 1 17

As ornamental, musical, polite,

Like those which modem senators employ,

Whose oath is rhet'ric, and who swear for &me !

Behold the schools in which plebeian minds,

Once simple, are initiated in arts,

Which some may practise with politer grace,

But none with readier skill !....'tis here they ieam

The road that leads, from competence and peace,

To indigence and rapine ; till at last.

Society, grovm weary of the load.

Shakes her encumber'd lap, and casts them out.

But censure profits little : vain th' attempt

' To advertise in verse a public pest.
That, like the filth with.which the peasant feeds
His hungry acres, stinks, and is of use.
Th' excise is fattened with the rich result
Of all this riot^ and ten thousand casks.
Forever dribbling out their base contents,

1 Touched by the Midas finger of the state,
Bleed gold for ministers to sport away.
, Drink, and be mad, then ; 'tis your country bids !

i Gloriously drunk, obey th' important call !
Her cause demands th' assistance of your throats ^..

■ Ye all dn swallow, and she asks no more.

Would I had fiedrn upon those happier days
That poets celebrate ; those golden times.
And those Arcadian scenes, that Maro sings.
And Sidney, warbler of poetic prose.
Nymphs were Dianas then, and swains had heartai
That felt their virtues ; innocence, it seems^
From courts dismiss'd, found shelter in the groves;

118 Tttft TASK. BOOK IV.

The foot-steps of simpUcity, impressed

Upon the jdeldmg herbage, (so they shig)

Then were not all effac'd : then speech pro&ne.

And manners profligate, were rarely found.

Observed as progidies, and soon redum'd.

Vain wish 1 those days were never ; airy dreams

Sat for the picture ; and the poet's hand,

Imparting substance to an empty shadei

impos'd a gay delirium for a truth.

Grant it :....! still must envy them an age

That favor'd such a dream, in days like thesey

Impossible, when virtue is so scarce.

That to suppose a scene where she presides^

Is tramontane, and stumbles all belief.

No : we are polishM now ! The rural las8»

Whom once her virgin modesty and grace,

Her artless manners, and her neat attire,

So dignified, that she was hardly less

Than the fair shepherdess of old romance,

Is seen no more. The character is lost !

Her head, adom'd with lappets pinn'd aloft^

And ribbons streaming gay, superbly rais'd

And magnified beyond all human size,

Indebted to some smart wig-weaver^s hand

For more than half the tresses it sustains;

Her elbows ruffled, and her tott'ring form,

111 propped upon French heels ; she mightbe deem'd

(But that the basket dangling on her arm

Interprets her more truly) of a rank

Too proud for dairy work, or sale of eggs.

Expect her sooii with foot4xyy at her heels^

1

BOOK rf • TBX WlMTUi KVSITIMa. 119

No longer blushiog for her awkward load»
Her train) and her umbrella, all her carei

The tOHfA has tii^'d the country ; and the ttaia
Appears a spot upon a vestal's robei
The worse for what it soils. The fiahion nma
Down into scenes still rural ; but^ alas !
Scenes rarely grac'd with rural manners now.
Time was, when, in the pastoral retreat^
Th* unguarded door was safo ; men did not watch
T' invade another's right, or g^uard their own.
Then sleep was undisturb'd by fear, unscar'd
By drunken bowlings ; and the chilling tale
Of midnight murder, was a wonder heard
With doubtful credit, told to frighten babes.
But fiu*ewel now to unsuspicious nights,
And slumbers unalarm'd I Now, ere you sleep.
See that your polish'd arms be prim'd with care.
And drop the night-bolt ; ruffians are abroad;
And the first larum of the cock's shrill throat
May prove a trumpet, summoning your ear
To horrid sounds of hostile feet within.
£v*n day-light has its dangers ; and the walk,
Through pathless wastes and woods, unconscious

once
Of other tenants, than melodious birds
Or harmless flocks, is hazardous and bold.
Lamented change ! to which full many a cause
Inveterate, hopeless of a cure, conspires.
The course of human things from good to ill,
From ill to worse, b fatal, never fails.
Increase of pow'r begets increase of weahh ;

190 TSX TA8S. BOOK lY.

Weahh luxurjr, and luxury excess ;

Excess^ the scrofulous and itchy plague

That seizes first the opulent) descends

To the next rank contagious ; and in time^

Taints downward all the graduated scale

Of order, from the chariot to the plough.

The rich) and they that have an arm to check

The license of the lowest in deg^e,

Desert their office ; and themselves, intent

On pleasure, haunt the capital, and thus>

To all the violence of lawless hands,

Resign the scenes their presence might protect

Authority herself not seldom sleeps.

Though reudent, and witness of the wrong.

The plump convivial parson often bears

The magisterial sword in vain, and lays

His rev'rence and his worship, both to rest

On the same cushion of habitual sloths

Perhaps timidity restrains his arm ;

When he should strike he trembles, and sets free,

Himself enslav'd by terror of the band,

Th' audacious convict, whom he dares not bind.

Perhaps, though by profession ghostly pure,

He too may have his vice, and sometimes prove

Less dainty than becomes his grave outside

In lucrative concerns. Examine well

His milk-white hand ; the palm is hardly clean....

But here and there an ugly smutch appears.

Fob ! 'twas a bribe that left it : he has touch'd

Corruptioni Whoso seeks an audit here

Propitious, pays his tribute, game or fith,

Wild-foivl or ven'son ; and hia errand speeds.

lOOK IT. THE WIKTBA BTSNINa. 121

But faster far, and more than all the rest,
A noble cause, which none who bears a spark
Of public virtue, ever wish'd removed,
Works the deplor'd and mischievous effect.
'Tis universal soldiership has stabb'd
The heart of merit in the meaner class.
Arms, through the vanity and brainless rage
Of those that bear them, in whatever cause,
Seem most at variance with all moral good,
And incompatible with serious thought.
The clown, the child of nature, without guile,
Blest with an infant's ignorance of a!l
But his own simple pleasures ; now and then
A wrestling-match, a foot-race, or a fair ;
Is ballotted, and trembles at the news :
Sheepish he doffs his hat, and, mumbling, swears
A bible oath to be whatever they please.
To do he knows not what ! The task pcrform'd,
That instant he becomes the scrgeant*s care.
His pupil, and his torment, and his jest.
His awkward ^t, his introverted toes,
Bent knees, round shoulders, and dejected looks,
Procure him many a curse. By slow degrees.
Unapt to learn, and form'd of stubborn stuff.
He yet by slow degrees puts off himself.
Grows conscious of a change, and likes it well :
He stands erect ; his slouch becomes a walk ;
He steps right onwanl, martial in his air.
His form, and movement ; is as smart above
As meal and larded locks can make him ; wears
His hat, or his plumM helmet, with a grace ;
And) his three years of heroship expir'd,

129 TBB TJlAK. MIO&rF«

Returns indignant to the stighted plough.
He hates the field, in which no fife or dnun
Attends him ; drives his cattle to a march ;
And sighs for the smart cooirades he has left.
'Twere well if his exterior change were alL..«
But with his clumsy port the wretch has lost
His ignorance and harmless manners tool
To swear, to game, to drink ; to show at home».
By lewdness, idleness, and sabbath-breach^
The great proficiency he made abroad ^
T' astonish and to grieve his gazing friends ;
To break some maiden's and his mother's heart}
To be a pest where he was useful once ;
Are his sole sum, aad all his glory, now 1

Man in society is like a flow'r
Blown in its nativo bed : 'tis there alone
His faculties, expanded in fiill bloom,
Shine out ; there only reach their proper uae.
But man, associated and leagu'd with man
By. regal warrant, or self-join'd by bond
For int'rest-sake, or swarming into clans
Beneath one head for purposes o£ war.
Like fiow'rs selected from the rest, and bound
And bundled close to fill some crowded raaof
Fades rapidly, and, by compression marr'd)
Contracts defilement not to be endured*
Hence chartered boroughe are such puMic phgwiT! ;
And burghers, men immaculate perhaps
In all their private functions, once comUn'df
Become a loathsome bodyi only fit
FordissolutioD) burtfiil tothemain. ....

BOOK IV. THE WINTER ETKNINO. l^'

Hence merchants) unimpeachable of sin
Against the charities of domestic life,
Incorporated) seem at once to lose
Their nature ; and) disclaiming all regard
For mercj and the common rights of man^
Build fisu^tories with blood, conducting trade
At the sword's point, and dying the white robe
Of innocent commercial justice, red.
Hence, too, the field of glory, as the world
Misdeems it, dazzled by its bright array,
With all its majesty of thund'iing pomp,
Elnchanting music and immortal wreaths,
Is but a school where thoughtlessness is taught
On principle, where foppery atones
For folly, gallantry for every vice.

But, slighted as it is, and by the great
Abandon'd, and, which still I more regret,
Infected with the manners and the modes
I knew not once, the country wins me still.
I never framM a wish, or form'd a plan.
That flatter'd me with hopes of earthly bliss.
But there I laid the scene. There early stray 'd
My fiuicy, ere yet liberty of choice
Had foiaid me, or the hope of being free.
My very dreams were rural ; rural, too,
The first-bom efforts of my youthful muse.
Sportive, and jingling her poetic bells
Ere yet her ear was mistress of their pow'rs.
No bard could please me but whose lyre was tun'd
To nature's praises. Heroes and their feats
Fatigu'd me, never weary of th^ pipe

i24 THE TASK. BOOK IV.

Of Tityrus, assembling, as he sang,

The rustic throng beneath his favorite beech.

Then Milton had indeed a poet's charms:

Kew to my taste, his Paradise surpass^

The struggling efforts of my boyish tongue

To speak its excellence. I danc'd for joy.

I marvcrd much, that, at so ripe an age

As twice seven years, his beauties had then first

Engag'd my wonder ; and, admiring still.

And btiil admiring, with regret supposed

The joy half lost because not sooner found.

There, too, enamored of the life I lov'd,

Pathetic in its praise, in its pursmt

l)ctcrmir.*d, and possessing it at last

\Viih transports such as fiivor'd lovers feel,

I Ktudled, priz'd, and wish'd that I had known,

Ingenious Cowley ! and, though now reclaimed

By modem lights from an erroneous taste,

I cannot but lament thy splendid wit

I'hitungled in the cobwebs of the schools.

I still revere thee, courtly though retired ;

Though stretch'd at ease in Chertsey's silent bowers.

Not unemploy'd ; and finding rich aniends

For a lost world in solitude and verse.

'Tii bom with all : the love of nature's works

Is an ingredient in the compound man,

Infus'd at the creation of the kind.

And, though the Almighty Maker has throughout

Discriminated each from each, by strokes

And touches of his hand, with so much art

Diversified, that two were never found

Twins at all points....yet this obtains in all, . i

BOOK IF. THE WIVTER ETBKINO. 125

That all discera a beauty in his woriLSf

Andallcao taste them: minds that have been form'd

And tutor'df with a relish more exacts

But none without some relish^ none unmoved.

It is a flame that dies not even there,

Where nothing feeds it: neither business) crowdsy

Nor habits of luxurious city-life ;

Whatever else they smother of true worth

In human bosoms ; quench it, or abate. .

The villas with which London stands begirt,

Like a swarth Indian with his belt of beads,

Prove it A breath of unadult'rate air.

The glimpse of a green pasture, hpw theycheer

The citizen, and brace his languid frame !

Ev'n in the stifling bosom of the town,

A garden, in which nothing Uirives, has charms

That soothe the rich possessor ; much consol'd,

That here and there some sprigs of mournful mintf

Of nightshade, or valerian, grace the well

He cultivates These serve him with a hint

That nature lives ; that sight-refreshing green

Is still the liv'ly she delights to wear,

Though sickly samples of th' exuberant whole.

What are the casements lin'd with cree^g herbs,-

The prouder sashes fronted with a range

Of orange, myrtle, or the fragrant weed.

The Frtfichman's* darling ? are they not all pioo&f

That man, immur'd in cities, still retains

His inborn inextinguishable thirst

Of rural scenes, compensating his loss

By supplemental shifts, the best he may ?

The most uofumish'd with the means of life, .

* MignoMite.
l2

i36 THB TASK. BOOK IT.

And they that nerer pass their biick-wall bounds
To range the fields and treat their lungs with air,
Yet feel the burning instinct : over-head
Suspend their crazj boxes, planted thick.
And water'd duly. There the pitcher stands
A fragment, and the spoutless tea-pot there ;
Sad witnesses how close-pent man regrets
The country, with what ardor he contrives
A peep at nature, when he can no more.

Hail, therefore, patroness of health, and ease,
And contemplation, heartconsoling jo3rs.
And harmless pleasures, in the thronged abode
Of multitudes unknown I hail, rural life i
Address himself who will to the pursuit
Of honors, or emoluments, or fame r
I shall not add vay^elt to such a chase,
Thwart his attempts, or envy his success.
Some must be great. Great offices will have
Great talents. And God gives to every man
The virtue, temper, understanding, taste,
That lilts him into life, and lets him fall
Just in the niche he was ordain'd to fill.
To th^ deliverer of an injur'd land
He gives a tongue t' enlarge upon, an heart
To feel, and courage to redress her wrongs ;
To monarchs dignity ; to judges sense ;
To artists ingenuity and skill ;
To me an unambitious mind, content
In the low vale of life, that early felt
A wish for ease and leisure, and ere long
Found here that leisure and that ease I wishM.

THE TASK,

A POEM.

BOOK V.

ARGUMENT OP THE FIFTH BOOK.

A fiitwiy iiionuog....Thr fMenan of cMHt-^Tlie woodman md
hit djOg....The poiiltr7.».WhSmAeal efleett of frost ut a waler-
iaIL...Tiie Empress of Russia's {lalaee of ko.^ Amttsemcats of
moiiarolis..^War9 one of tfa0|BU..Wai% wlieiioe.^Aiid Thnunn
iiiODarehj....The evils ofif..,.Bp|^ andFteneh lojralty eontasl-
ed»..Tlie Basliie» and a prisoner tbere^.XU>ert7 the ohief reeon*
mendation of dib 60iinti7..»Modem patriotism qnestionabfey
and wh7....The peririnbia BBtara of Hm teslhiwian iostitntioniM.
Spiittnal liberty not perishal>ie....Tbe dansli state of man hf aa-
tnre^JDeliTer him^ Deist, if 7011 ean»..Graee must do tt^^Tke
respeetife merits of patriots and martjrrs stated....Tlieir'dlfierent
treatment...Hi^P7 freedom of the man whom graee maket fiee.^
His reUah of the woriBi of God.M^ddrcss to the Crefllior.

THE TASK.

BOOK r.

THE WINTER MORNING WALK.

JL IS morning ; and the sun^ with ruddy orb
Ascending, fires th' horizon ; while the clouds^
That crowd away before the driving wind,
More ardent, as the disk imerges more,
Resembles most some city in a blaze,
Seen through the leafless wood. His slanting ray
Slides ineffectual down the snowy vale,
And, dnging all with his own rosy hue,
From cv'ry herb and ev'ry spiry blade.
Stretches a length of shadow o'er the field.
Mine, spindling into longitude immense,
In spite of gravity, and sage remark
That I mjrself am but a fleeting shade.
Provokes me to a smile. With eye askance,

I view the muscul&r prop o rtioned limb

Transform'd to a lean shank. The shapeless pati>
As they design'd to mock me, at my side
Take step for step ; and, as I near approach
The cottage, walk along the plaster'd wall^
Prepost'rous ught ! the legs without the man.
The yerdure of the plain lies buried deep

130 THK TASK. BOOK V.

Beneath the dazzUng deluge : and the bents,
And coarser grass, upspearing o'er the rest,
Of late unsightly and unseen, now shine
Conspicuous, and, in bright apparel clad.
And fledg'd with icy feathers, nod superb.
The cattle mourn in comers, where the fence
Screens them, and seem half petrified to sleep
In unrecumbent sadness. There they wait
Their wonted fodder; not like hungering man,
Fretful if tmsiipiplied; but silent, meek,
And patient of the slow-pac'd swain's delay.
He from the stack carves out th' accustom'd load»
Deep plungii^ and again deep plunging ofity
His broad keen knife into the solid mass :
Smootli as a wall the upright remnant stands^
With such undeviating and even force
He severs it away : no needless care,
Lest storms should overset the leaning pile
Deciduous, or its own unbalanc'd weight.
Forth goes the woodman, leaving unconcem'd
The cheerful haunts of man ; to wield the Axe
And drive the wedge, in 3ronder forest dreary
From mom to eve, his solitary task.
Shaggy, and lean, and shrewd, with planted -ears
And tail cropp'd short, half lurcher and half otr..- '
His dog attends him. Oloso bohiinl Ills lieel
Kow croepa he stow, and now with many a friaki
Wide-scamp'ring, snatches up the drifted smow
With iv'ry teeth, or ploughs it wkh fab snout s
Then shakes his powdered ooaty and barks tuf^jofm
Heedleaa of all his prsnks* the sturdy churl >' i
Moves right tffmed the Burk^ oar sk^ tofvafj^

■OOKT. THE WINTSm MORmifO WALK. 131

But now and then witK pressure of his thumb
T* adjust the fragrant ehai^ of a short tube
That fumes beneath his nose : the tndling ckmd
Streams fer behmd him, scenting all the- air.
Now from the roost, or from the neighboring pak^
Where, diUgent to catch the first £unt gleam
Of smiling day, they gossipM side by side,
Come trooping at the housewife's well-known calif
The feather'd tribes domestic. Half on wing)
And half on foot, they brush the fleecy flood,
Conscious and fearful of too deep a plunge.
The wparrows peep, and quit the sheltering eayes
To seize the fidr occasion. Well they eye
The scattered grain ; and, thievishly resolv'd
T' escape th' impending famine, often scar^d^
As oh retum....a pert voracious kind.
Clean riddance quickly made, one only care
Remains to each....the search of sunny nook,
Or shed impervious to the.blast. Resigned
To sad necesnty, the cock foregoes
His wonted stmt ; and, wading at their head
With well-consider'd steps, seems to resent
His altered gait and stateliness retrenched.
How find the myriad, that in summer cheer
The hills and valleys with their ceaseless songs,
Pue sustenance, or where subsist diey now ?
Earth yields them nought : th' impriaon'd worm itf^

safe
Beneath the frozen clod ; all seeds of hertis
Lie covered close ; and berry-bearing thorns,
That feed the thrush, (whatever some suppose)
Affc»d the- amaiier minstrdB no supply.

132 THK TA8K. BOOK ▼.

The long protncted rigor of the jear

Thins all their numerouB flocks. In chinks and holes

Ten thousand seek an unmolested end,

As instinct prompts; self-buried ere they die.

The very rooks and daws forsake the fields.

Where neither grub, nor root, nor earth-nut, now,

Bepays their labor more ; and, perched aloft

By the way-side, or stalking in the path.

Lean pensioners upon the traveler's track,

Pick up their nauseous dole, though sweet to them,

Of voided pulse, or half-digested grain.

The streams are lost amid the splendid blank.

Overwhelming all distinction. On the flood,

Indurated and fix'd, the snowy weight

Lies undissolv'd ; while silently beneath.

And unperceiv*d, the current steals away.

Not so, where, scornful of a check, it leaps

The mill-dam, dashes on the wrestless wheel.

And wantons in the pebbly gulph below :

No frost can bind it there ; its utmost force

Can but arrest the light and smoky mist

That in its iisdl the liquid sheet throws wide.

And see, where it has hung th' embroidered banks

With forms so various, that no pow'rs of art.

The pencil or the pen, may trace the scene I

Here glitt'ring turrets rise, upbearing high

(Fantastic misarrangement 1) on the roof

Large growth of what may seem the sparkling trees

And shrubs of fairy land. The crystal drops

That trickle down the branches, fast congeal'd,

Shoot into pillars of pellucid length.

And prop the pile they but adom'd before.

BOOS T. THB WINTER MO&MIMO WALK. 133

Here grotto within grotto safe defies

The sun-beam ; there, imboss'd and fretted wild>

The growing wonder takes a thousand shapes

CapridouSf in which fancy seeks in vain

The likeness of some object seen before.

Thus nature works as if to mock at art.

And in defiance of her rival pow'rs ;

By these fortuitous and random strokes

Performing such inimitable feats

As she with all her rules can never reach.

Less worthy of applause, though more admirM,

Because a novelty, the work of man,

Imperial mistress of the fur-clad Russ !

Thy most magnificent and mighty freak,

The wonder of the North. No forest fell

When thou wouldst build ; no quarry sent its stores

T' enrich thy walls : but thou didst hew the floods,

And make thy marble of the glassy wave.

In such a palace Aristaeus found

Cyrene, when he bore the plaintive tale

Of his lost bees to her maternal ear :

In such a palace, poetry might place

The armory of winter ; where his troops,

The gloomy clouds, find weapons, arrowy sleet,

Skin-piercing volley, blossom-bruising hail,

And snow that often blinds the traveler's course,

And wraps him in an unexpected tomb.

Silently as a dream the &bnc rose ;....

No sound of hammer or of saw was there ;

Ice upon ice, the well adjusted parts

Were -soon conjoin'd ; nor other cement askM

Than water interfiu'd to make them one.

134 THK TASK. BOOK V.

Lamps gracefully dispos'cl> and of all hues^
IlluminM ev'ry side: a wat'xy light
Gleam' d through the clear transparency, that seem'd
Another moon new risen, or meteor fall'n
From hekv*n to earth, of lambent flame serene.
So stood the brittle prodigy ; though smooth
And slipp'ry the materials, yet frost-bound
Firm as a rock. Nor wanted aught within,
That royal residence might well befit,
Tor grandeur or for use. Long wavy wreaths
Of flow'rs, that fear'd no enemy but warmth,
Blush'd on the pannels. Mirror needed none
Where all was vitreous ; but in order due
Convivial table and commodious seat
(What seem'd at least commodious scat) were there ;
Sofa, and couch, and high-built throne august.
The same lubricity was found in all,
And all was moist to the warm touch ; a scene
Of evanescent glory, once a stream,
And soon to slide into a stream again.
Alas I 'twas but a mortifying stroke
Of undesign'd severity, that glanc'd
(Made by a monarch) on her own estate.
Of human gi*andeur and the courts of kings.
'Twas transient in its nature, as in show
'Twas durable ; as worthless, as it seem'd
Intrinsically precious ; to the foot
Trcach'rous and false ; it smil'd, and it was cold.

Great princes have great playthings. Some have
play'd
At hewing mountains into meoj and some.

SOOK T. THE WINTER MOKVING WALK. 135

At building human wonders mountain-high.
Some have amus'd the dull^ sad years of life
(Life spent in indolence, and therefore sad)
With schemes of monumental fame ; and sought
By pyramids and mausolean pomp,
Short-liv*d themselves, t' immortalize their bones.
Some seek diversion in the tented field,
And make the sorrows of mankind their sport.
But war's a game, which, were their subjects wise,
Kings would not play at. Nations would do well
T' extort their truncheons from the puny hand^
Of heroes, whose infirm and baby minds
Are gratified with mischief; and who spoils
Because men suffer it, their toy, tlic world.

When Babel was confounded, and the great
Confederacy of projectors, wild and vain.
Was split into diversity of tongues,
Then, as a shepherd separates his flock,
These to tlie upland, to the valley those,
God drave asunder, and assigned their lot
To all the nations. Ample was the boon
He gave them, in its distribution fair
And equal; and he bade them dwell in peace.
Peace was awhile their care ; they ploughed, and

soVd,
And rcap'd their plenty, without grudge or strife.
But ^olence can never longer sleep
Than human passions please. In ev'ry heart
Are sown the sparks that kindle fiery war ;
Occasion needs but fan them, and they blaze.
Cain had already shed a brother's blood :

136 TH£ TASK. BOOK Y.

The deluge vash'd it out ; but left unqucnch'd

The seeds of murder in the breast of man.

Soon, by a righteous judgment) in the line

Of his descending progeny^ was found

The first artificer of death ; the shrewd

Coiitriver, who first sweated at the forge>

And forcM the blunt and yet unbloodied steel

To a keen edge, and made it bright for war.

Him, Tubal nam'd, the Vulcan of old times.

The sword and falchion their inventor claim ;

And the first smith was the first murd'rer's mo.

His art survivM the waters ; and ere long.

When man was multiplied and spread abroad

In tribes and clans, and had begun to call

These meadows and that range of hills his own^

The tasted sweets of property begat

Desire of more ; and industry in some*

T' improve and cultivate their just deroesne»

Made others covet what they saw so fair.

Thus war began on earth : these fought for QMMlf *

And those in seif-<iefence. Savage at first*

The onset, and irregular. At Jength

One eminent above the rest, for strength^

For stratagem, or courage* or for ally

Was chosen leader : him they served in wir^

And him in peace, for sake of warlike deed*

Rev'renc'd no less. Who could with him compare I

Or who so worthy to control themselves

As he whose prowess had subdu'd their foes I

Thus war, affording field for the display

Of virtue, made one chief, whom times of peace,

Which have their exigencies too, and call

BOOS ▼. THE WIKTE& MORMXNO WALK. 137

For skill in goyemment) at length made king.

King was a name too proud for man to wear

With modesty and meekness ; and the crowni

So dazzling in their eyes who set it on^

Was sure t' intoxicate the brows it bound.

It is the abject property of most,

That, being parcel of the common mass,

And destitute of means to raise themselves,

They sink, and settle lower than they need.

They know not what it is to feel within

A comprehensive faculty, that grasps

Great purposes with ease, that turns and wields.

Almost without an effort, plans too vast

For their conception, which they cannot move.

Conscious of impotence, they soon grow drunk

With gazing, when they see an able man

Step forth to notice ; and, besotted thus,

Build him a pedestal, and say, <* Stand there,

^< And be our admiration and our praise."

They roll themselves before Mm in the dust»

Then most deserving in their own account

When most extravagant in his applause

As if exalting him they rais'd themselves.

Thus by degrees, self-cheated of their sound

And sober judgment, that he is but mani

They demi-deify and fume him so,

That in due season he forgets it too.

Inflated and astnit with self-conceit,

He gulps the windy diet; and ere long.

Adopting their mistake^ profoundly thinks

The world was made in vain, if not for him.

Thenceforth they are his cattle ; drudges, bom

u2

loS THE TA»K. BOOK V.

To bear liis burdens, drawing in his geanh
And sweating in his serviccy hb caprice
Becomes the soul that animates them all.
He deems a thousand, or ten thousand lives.
Spent in the purchase of renown for him,
An easy reckoning ; and they think the same.
Thus kings were first invented, and thus kings
Were bumish'd into heroes, and became
The arbiters of this terraqueous swamp ;
Storks among frogs, that have but croak'd and died*
Strange, that such folly as lifts bloated man
To eminence, fit only for a god.
Should ever drivel out of human lips,
£v'n in the cradled weakness of the world 1
Still stranger much, that, when at length mankind
Had reach'd the sinewy firmness of their youth.
And could discriminate and argue well
On subjects more mysterious, they were yet
Babes in the cause of freedom, and should fear
And quake before the gods themselves had made I
But above measure strange, that neither proof
Of sad experience, nor example set
By some whose patriot virtue has prevail*d.
Can, even now, when they are grown matum
In nisdoni, and with philosophic deeps
Familiar, serve t' emancipate the rest I
Such dupes arc men to custom, and so prone
To rev'i*cnce what is ancient, and can plead
\ course of long observance for its use,
That even servitude, the worst of ills,
Because deliver'd do^D from sire to son,
I s kept and guarded as a sacred thing I

MOmK V. TBK WIKTBE MORVmO WALK. 139

But 18 it fit, or can it bear the shock

Of rational discussion) that a man^

Compounded and made up like other men^

Of elements tumultuous^ in whom lust

And folly is as ample measure meet

As in the' bosoms of the slaves he rulesy

Should be a despot absolute, and boast

Himself the only freeman of his land I

Should, when he pleases, and on whom he willy

Wage war, with any or with no pretence

Of provocation giv^n, or wrong sustain'd,

And force the beggarly last doit, by means

That hb own humor dictates, from the clutch

Of poverty, that thus he may procure

His thousands, weary of penurious life,

A splendid opportunity to die ?

Say ye, (who, with less prudence than of oldf

Jotham ascrib'd to his assembled tree6

In politic convention) put your trust

I' th* shadows of a bramble, and, reclin'd

In fancied peace beneath his dang'rous branch,

Rejoice in him, and celebrate his sway.

Where find ye pasnve fortitude ? Whence springs

Your self-denying zeal, that holds it good

To strc^e the prickly grievance, and to hang

His thorns with streamers of continual praise i

We, too, are friends to loyalty. We love

The king who loves the Giw, respects his bounds,

And reigns content within them : him: we serve

Freely and with delight, who leaves us free :

But, recollecting still that he is man,

We trust him not too fitf. KingthQUgkhebtt

140 THS TASK. BOOK V;

And king in England too, he may be weak}
And vain enough to be ambitious still ;
May exercise amiss his proper powers.
Or covet more than freemen choose to g^rant ;
Beyond that mark is treason. He is ours
T' administer, to guard, t' adorn the statet
But not to warp or change it. We are hiS}
To serve him nobly in the common cause.
True to the death, but not to be his slaves.
Mark now the difif'rencc, ye that boast your love
Of kings, between your lo3raIty and ours.
We love the man ; the paltry pageant you.
We the chief patron of the commonwealth ;
You the reg^ardless author of its woes.
We, for the sake of liberty, a king ;
You, chains and bondage, for a tyrant's sake.
Our love is principle, and has its root
In reason, is judicious, manly, free ;
Your's^ a blind instinct, crouches to the rod|
And licks the foot that treads it in the dust«
Were kingship as true treasure as it seems,
Sterling, and worthy of a wise man's wish,
I would not be a king to be belov'd
Causeless, and daub*d with undisceming praise,
Where love is mere attachment to the throne,
Not to the man who fills it as he ought

Whose freedom is by suff 'ranee, aiid at wiU
Of a superior, he is never free.
Who lives, and is not weary of a life
Expos'd to manacles, deserverthem well.
Tiie state thitt strives for liberty, though fiaii'dt

BOOK V. THE WINTER MOENING WALK. Ul

And forcM t' abandon what she bravely sought)

Deserves at least applause for her attempt)

And pity for her loss. But that's a cause

Not often unsuccessful : pow'r usurp*d

Is weakness when opposM ; conscious of wrong)

'Tis pusillanimous and prone to flight.

But slaves, that once conceive the glowing thought

Of freedom, in that hope itself possess

All that the contest calls for ; spirit, strength)

The Bcom of danger, and united hearts ;

The surest presage of the good they seek.*

Then shame to manhood, and opprobrious more

To France than all her losses and defeats.

Old, or of later date, by sea or land.

Her house of bondage, worse than that of old

Which God aveng'd on Pharaoh. ...the Bastile !

Ye horrid tow'rs, th* abode of broken hearts ;

Ye dungeons ! and ye cages of despair I

That monarchs have supplied from age to age

With music such as suits their sov'reign ears !...• '

The sighs and groans of miserable men ;

There's not an English heart that would not leap .

To hear that ye were fall'n at last ; to know

That ev'n our enemies, so oft employed

In forging chains for us, themselves were free*

For he who values liberty, confines

His zeal for her predominance within

* llie Author hopes diat he shall not he censured for imiietet*
saiy -warmth upen so interesting a subject. He is aware that it if
1)ecomc almost fashionable to sdgmatize such sentiments as no bet«
ter than empty decbunation ; hut it is an iU symptonit and pecnUsr
to modem tijnei.

143 THE TASK. BOOK V.

No narrow bounds ; her cause engages him

Wherever pleaded. 'Tis the cause of man.

There dwell the most forlorn of human kind ;

Immur'd though unaccused, condemn'd untried^

Cruelly spared, and hopeless of escape I

There, like the visionary emblem seen

By him of Babylon, life stands a stumpy

And, filletted about M'ith hoops of brass.

Still lives, though all its pleasant boughs are gone-

To count the hour bell and expect no change ;

And, ever, as the sullen sound is heard.

Still to reflect, that, though a joyless note

To him whose moments all have one dull pace,

Ten thousand rovers in the world at large

Account it music ; that it summons some

To theatre, or jocund feast, or ball :

The wearied hireling finds it a release

From labor ; and tlie lover, who has chid

Its long delay, feels ev'ry welcome stroke

Upon his heart-strings, trembling with delight...

To fly for refuge from distracting thought^

To such amusements as ingenious woe

Contrives, hard shifting, and without her tools^.

To read engraven on the mouldy walls.

In stagg'ring types, his predecessor's tale,

A sad memorial, and subjoin his own....

To turn purveyor to an overgorg'd

And blouted spider, till the pamper'd pest

Is made familiar, watches his approach,

Comes at his call, and serves him for a friend.

To wear out time, in numbering to and fro

The studs that thick emboss his inm door i

!••«

l.«««

fepS ▼• THE WINTER MORMIMG WALK. 143

Then downward and then upward, then astont

And then alternate ; with a sickly hope

Bf dint of change to give his tasteless task

Some relish ; till the sum, exactly found

In all directions^ he begins agun....

Oh comfortless existence I hemm'd around

With woes, which who that suffers would not kneel.

And beg for exile, or the pangs of death ?

That man should thus encroach on fellow man^

Abridge him of his just and native rights,

Eradicate him, tear him from his hold

Upon th* endearments of domestic life

And social, nip his fruitfiilness and use.

And doom him for perhaps an heedless word

To barrenness, and solitude, and tears.

Moves indignation ; makes the name of king

(Of king whom such prerogative can please)

As dreadful as the Manichean g^,

Adored through fear, strong only to destroy.

'Tis liberty alone that gives the flow'r
Of fleeting life its lustre and perhime ;
And we are weeds without it. All constraint)
Except what wisdom lays on evil men.
Is evil ; hurts the faculties, impedes
Their progress in the road of science ; blinds
The eye-sight of discov'ry ; and begets,
In those that suffer it, a sordid mind
Bestial, a meag^ intellect, unfit
To be the tenant of man's noble form.
Thee therefore still, blame-worthy as thou art,
IViih all thy loas of empire^ and though sc^ufi«i.'4

ri4 THlt rkSK. BOOK T

By public exigence till annual food

Fails for the craving hunger of the statey

Thee I account still happy, and the chief

Among the nationsy aeeing thou art free :

My native nook of earth ! Thy clime is rude^

Replete wkh vapors^ and disposes much

All hearts to sadness, imd none more than mine :

Thine unadult'rate manners are less soft

And plausible than social life requires,

And thou hast need of discipline and art

To give thee what politer France receives

From Nature's bounty....that humane address

And sweetness, without which no pleasure is

In converse, either starv'd by cold reserve,

Or Rush'd with fierce dispute, a senseless brawl :

Yet, being free, I love thee : for the sake

Of that one feature, can be well content,

Disgrac'd as thou hast been, poor as thou art,

To seek no sublunary rest beside.

But, once enslav'd, farewell ! I could endure

Chains no where paUently ; and chains at home,

Where I am free by birth-right, not at all.

Then what were left of roughness in the grain

Of British natures, wanting its excuse

That it belongs to freemen^ would disgust

And shock me. I should then, with double pain,

Feel all the rigor of thy fickle clime ;

And, if I must bewail the blessing lost, .

For which our Hampdens and our Sidneys bled|^

I would at least bewail it under skies

Milder, among a people less austere ;

In sceneS) which) having never known me free,

BOOK V. THB WIHTBE MOBNINO WALK. US

Would not reproach me with the loss I felt.

Do I forebode impossible events.

And tremble at vain dreams ? Heav'n grant I may !

But th' age of virtuous politics is past.

And we are deep in that of cold pretence.

Patriots are grown too shrewd to be sincere,

And we too wise to trust them. He that takes

Deep in his soft credulity the stamp

Design' d by loud declaimcrs on the part

Of liberty, themselves the slaves of lust,

Incurs derision for his easy faith

And lack of knowledge, and with cause enough :

For when was public virtue to be found

Where private was not ? Can he love the whole

Who loves no part ? He be a nation's friend,

Who is, in tnith, the friend of no man there ?

Can he be strenuous in his country's cause

Who slights the charities, for whose dear sake

That country, if at all, must be belov'd ?

'Tis therefore sober and good men are sad
For England's glory, seeing it wax pale
And sickly, while her champions wear their hearts
So loose to private duty, that no brain,
Healthful and undisturb'd by factious fumes.
Can dream them trusty to the gen'ral weal.
Such were they not of old, whose tempered blades
Dispers'd the atiacklcs of usurp'd control.
And hew'd them link from link ; then Albion's sons
Were sons indeed ; they felt a filial heart
Beat high within them at a mother's wrongs;
And shining each in his domestic sphere,

U6 THB TABK. BO0& 1

Shone brighter still, once call'd to public view^
'Tis therefore many, whose sequestered lot
Forbids their interference) looking on,
Anticipate perforce some dire event :
And, seeing tlie old castle of the state,
That promis'd once more firmness, so assail'dy
That all its tempest-beaten turrets shake,
Stand motionless expectants of its fall.
All has its date below ; the fatal hour
Was register'd in heav'n ere time began.
Wc turn to dust, and all our mightiest works
Die too : tlie deep foundations that we lay,
Time ploughs them up, and not a trace remains.
AVe, build with what we deem eternal rock ;
A distant age asks where the fabric stood ;
And in the dust, sifted and search*d in vain,
The imdiscoverable secret sleeps.

But there is yet a liberty, unsung
£y poets, and by senators unprais'd,
AVhich monarchs cannot grant, nor all the pow'rs
Of earth and hell confederate, take away :
A liberty, which persecution, fraud,
Oppression, prisons, have no pow'r to bind ;
\Vhich, whoso tastes, can be enslav'd no more.
'Tis liberty of heart, deriv'd from heav'n ;
Bought with BIS blood who gave it to mankind,
And seal'd with the. same token ! It is held -
By charter, and that charter sanction'd sure
By th' unimpeachable and awful oath
And prc^nise of a Qod.! His oth^r gifts
All bear the royal stamp that speaks them hisi,

BOOK ▼. THE WINTER MOEKtNO WALK. 14Y

And are august ; but this transcends them all.
His Other works^ the visible display
Of all-creating energy and mighty
Are grand, no doubt, and worthy of the word,
That, finding an interminable space
Unoccupied, has fill'd the void so well.
And made so sparkling what was dark before.
But these are not his glory. Man, 'tis true,
Smit with the beauty of so fair a scene.
Might well suppose th' artificer divine
Meant it eternal, had he not himself
Pronounc'd it transient, glorious as it is.
And, still designing a more glorious far,
Doom'd it as insuiHcient for his praise.
These, therefore, are occasional, and pass ;
Form*d for the confutation of the fool,
"Whose lying heart disputes against a God j
That office serv'd, they must be swept away.
Not so the labors of his love : they shine
In other heav'ns than these that we behold,
And fade not There is a paradise that fears
No forfeiture, and of its fruits he sends
Large prelibation oft to saints below.
Of these the first in order, and the pledge
And confident assurance of the rest,
Is liberty :....a flight into his arms
Ere yet mortality's fine threads give way,
A clear escape from tyranizing lust,
And full immunity from penal woe.

Chains are the portion of revolted man,
Stripes and a dungeon; and his body serves

148 TSB TASK. . mOOKV^

The triple purpose. In that sicklj) foulf

Opprobrious residence* he iinds them alL

Propense his heart to idols, he is held

In silly dotage on created things.

Careless of their Creator. And that low

And sordid gravitation of his pow*rs

To a vile clod so draws him, with such force

Resistless from the centre he should seek,

That he at last forgets it All liia hopes ^

Tend downward ; his ambition is to sink,

To reach a depth profounder still, and still .

Profoundcr, in the fathomless abyss

Of folly, plunging in pursuit of death.

But, ere he gain tlie comfortless repose

He seeks, and acqmescence of his soul.

In hcav'n-renouncing exile, he endures....

What does he not? from lusts oppos'd in vaint

And self-reproaching conscience. He foresees

I'he fatal bsue to his health, fame, peace,

Foilune, sikI dignity ; the loss of all ■ »

That can eoohle man, and make frail life,

Short as it is, su{^K>rtable. Still worse,

Far worse than all the plagues with which his sins '

Infect his happiest moments, he forebodes

Ages of hopeless mis'ry. Future death,

And death still future. Not sn hasty stroke,

I^ikc that which sends him to the dusty graven

But unrepealable enduring death I

Scripture is still a trumpet to his foars :

What none can prove a forg'ry, may be true ;

What none but bad men wish exploded, must.

That scruple checks him. Riot is not loud.

Book r. the winter morkikg walk. H9

Nor drunk enough to drown it. In the midst
Of laughter his compunctions are sincere ;
And he abhors the jest by which he shines.
Remorse begets reform. His master-lust
Falls first before his resolute rebuke.
And seems dethron'd and vanquish'd. Peace ensues^
But spurious and short-liv'd ; the puny child
Of self-congratulating pride, begot
On fancied innocence. Again he fills,
And fights again ; but finds his best essay
A presage ominous, portending still
Its own dishonor by a worse relapse.
Till nature, unavailing nature, foilM
So oil, and wearied in the vain attempt.
Scoffs at her own performance. Reason now
Takes part with appetite, and pleads the causey-
Perversely, which of late she so condemn*d ;
With shallow shifts and old devices, worn
And tatter'd in the service of debauch,
Cov'ring his shame from his offended sights

^ Hath God indeed giv'h appetites to man,
^ And stor'd the earth so plenteously with means
" To gratify the hunger of his wbh ;
<< And doth he reprobate, and will he damn,
^ The use of his own bounty ? making first
^ So frail a kind, and then enacting laws
^ So strict, that less than perfect must despair I
" Falsehood I which whoso but suspects of truth
^ Dishonors- God, and makes a slave of man.
^ Do they themselves, who undertake for hire

^ The teacher's office, and dispense at larg^

v2

150 THE TASK. BOOK Ti

<< Their weekly dole of edifying^ atrainsy

*< Attend to their own music ? have they faith

<< In what, with such solemnity of tone

^ And gesture, they propound to our belief ^

<< Nay...conduct hath the loudest tongue. The Toicd

<( Is but an instrument, on whkh the priest

^ May play what tune he pleases^ In the deed)

^< The unequivocal authentic deed,

^* We find sound argument, we read the heart.** '

Such reasonings (if that name must need belongs
T' excuses in which reason has no part)
Serve to compose a spirit well inclinM
To live on terms of amity with vice,
And sin withoutfdisturbance. Often urg^dy
(As often as libidinous discourse
Exhausted, he resorts to solemn themes
Of theological and grave import)
They gain at last his unreserved assent ;
Till, harden'd his heart's temper in the forge
Of lust, and on the anvO of despair,
He slights thestrokes of conscience. Nothfaigmoves^
Or nothing muchf his constancy in ill $
Vain tampering has but fostered his disease ;
'Tis desperate, and he sleeps the sleep of death I '
Llaste now, philosopher, and set him free.
Charm the deaf serpeant wisely. Make him hear
Of rectitude and fitness, moral truth
liow lovely, and the moral sense how sure,
Consulted and obeyed, to guide his steps
Directly to the rmsT akd only fair,
$l)arc not in such a cause. Spend all the powers

BOOKV. T8E WIWTftm Me&NIMG WALK. 151

Of rant and rhapsody in virtue's praise :

Be moat aubtimely good, verbosely grandy

And with poetic trappings grace thy prose>

Till it out-mantle aU the pride of verse....

Ah) tinkling cymbal^ and high sounding brassf .

Smitten in vain ! such music cannot charm

Th' eclipse that intercepts truth's heavenly beanif

And chills and darkens a wide wand' ring soul.

The STILL SMiiLL VOICE is wanted. He must speak)

Whose word leaps forth at once to its effect;

Who calls for things that are not, and they come.

#

Grace makes the slave a freeman. 'Tis a chango
That turns to ridicule the turgid speech
And stately tone of moralists, who boast
As if, like him of fabulous renown^
They had indeed ability to smooth
The shag of savage nature, and were eadi
An Orpheus, and omnipotent in song :
But transformation of apostate man
From fool to wise, from earthly to divine,
Is work for Him that made him. He alone^
And He by means in philosophic eyes
Trivial and wortliy of disdain, achieves
The wonder ; humanizing what is brute
In the lost kind, extracting from the lips
Of asps their venom, overpow'ring strength
By weakness, and hostility by love.

>• •

Patriots have toil'd, and in their country's cause
Bled nobly ; and their deeds, as they deserve,
Receive proud recompense. We give in charge

l5) THE TkSml BOOK V.

Their names to the sweet l3rre. Th^ historic mtisey

Proud of the treasure, marches vdth it down

To latest times ; and sculpture, in her turn,

Gives bond in stone and ever-during brass

To guard them, and t' immortalize her trust ;

But fairer wreaths are due, thcrugh never paidf

To those, who, posted at the shrine of truth.

Have &irn in her defence. A patriot's blood.

Well spent in such a strife, may earn indeed.

And for a time ensure, to his loy'd land

The sweets of liberty and equal laws ;

But martyrs struggle for a brighter prize,

And win it with more pun. Their blood is shed*

In confirmation of the noblest claim....

Our claim to feed upon immortal truth.

To walk with God, to be divinely free.

To soar, and to anticipate the skies !

Yet few remember them. They liv'd unknown

Till persecution dragg'd them into fame,

And chas'd them up to heav'n. Their ashes flew..«.

No mai*ble tells us whither. With their names

No bard embalms and sanctifies his song :

And history, so warm on meaner themes,

Is cold on this. She execrates indeed

The tyranny that doomM them to the fire,

But gives the glorious sufferers little praise,*

He is the freeman whom the truth makes free^.
And all are slaves beside. There's not a chain
That hellish foes, confed'rate for his harm.
Can wind around him, but he casts it off

• Sec Hume.

BOOKV:. THE VINTEft M0RK1N6 WALK, r 153

With as much ease as Sampson his green wyths.

He looks abroad into the varied field

Of nature^ and) though poor perhaps compared

With those whose mansions glitter in his ughty

Calls the delightful scen'ry all his own.

His are the mountains^ and the valleys hiS)

And the resplendent rivers. His t* enjoy

With a propriety that none can fecl>

But whoy with filial confidence inspirM,

Can lift to heaven an unpresumptuous eye^

And smiling say....<< My Father made tkem all !'*

Are they not his by a pieculiar right)

And by an emphasis of interest his>

Whose eye they fill with tears of holy joy,

Whose heart with praise, and whose exalted mind

With worthy thoughts of that unwearied love

That plann'd, and built, and still upholds, a world

So cloth'd with beauty for rebellious man ?

Yes....ye may fill your gamers, ye that reap

The loaded soil, and ye may waste much good

In senseless riot ; but ye will not find.

In feast or in the chase, in scuig or dance,

A liberty like his, who, unimpeach'd

Of usurpation, and to no man' s wrong.

Appropriates nature as hb Father's work.

And hits a richer use of yours than you.

He b indeed a freeman. Free by birth

Of no mean city ; plann'd or ere the hills

Were built, the fountains open'd, or the sea

With all fab roaring multitude of waves. _

His freedom is the same in ev'ry state ;

And no condition of thb changeful life.

154 THE TASK. BOOK V

So manifold in cares, whose ev'iy day
Brings its own evil with it, makes it less :
For he has wings, that neither sicki^ss, pain^
Nor penury, can cripple or confine. '
No nook so narrow but he spreads them there
With ease, and is at large. Th' oppressor holds
His body bound ; but knows not what a range
His spirit takes, unconscious of a chain ;
And that to bind him is a vain attempt
Whom God delights in, and in whom he dwells.

«

Acquaint thyself with God, if thou wouldst taste
His works. Admitted once to his embrace.
Thou shalt perceive that thou wast blind before :
Thine eye shall be instructed ; and thine heart,
Made pure, shidl relish, with divine delight
Till then imfelt, what hands divine have wrought.
Brutes graze the mountain-top, with faces prone
And eyes intent upon the scanty herb
It yields them ; or, recumbent on its brow,
Ruminate heedless of the scene outspread
Beneath, beyond, and stretching &r away
From inland regions to the distant main.
Man views it, and admires ; but rests content
With what he views. The landscape has his praise
But not its Author. Unconcem'd who form'd
The pardise he sees, he finds it such.
And such well pleas'd to find it, asks no more.
Not so the mind that has been touch'd from heav*!
And in the school of sacred wisdom taught
To read his wonders, in whose thought the worlds
Fair as it is, existed ere it was.

L T. THE WIVTSK MOmjIIVO WALK. HS

for its own sake merely^ but for his
h more who fiishion'd it, he gives it praise;
le that, from earth resulting, as it ought,
arth's acknowledged Sovereign, finds at once "
aly just proprietor in him.
soul that sees him, or receives suUim'd '

faculties, or learns at least t* employ
s worthily the pow'rs she own'd before,
ems in all things, what, with stupid gaze
^norance, till then she overlooked....
y of heav'nly light, gilding all forms
estrial in the vast and the minute ;
unambiguous footsteps of the €rod
» gives its lustre to an insect's wing,
wheels his throne upon the rolling worlds.
li conversant with heav'n, she often holds
I those fair ministers of light to man,
fill the skies nightly with silent pomp,
'X <:onference. Inquires what strains were they
I which heav'n rang, when ev*ry star, in haste
ratulate the new created earth,
forth a voice, and all the sons of God
.ted for joy....^< Tell me, ye shining hosts^
at navigate a sea that knows no storms,
leath a vault unsullied with a cloud,
rom your elevation, whence ye view
idnctly scenes invisible to man,
d systems of whose birth no tidings yet
ve ceach'd this nether world, ye spy a race
ror^d as ours i transgressors from the womb,
d hasting to a grave, yet doom'd to rise,
d to possess a brighter heaVn than yours ?

- V

I4f6 THSTAftK. B«Oft1

^ Ab one^ who, long detained on foreign shorea

^ Pants to return, and when he sees afiur

^ His country's weather-Ueach^d and battered rock

<* From the green wave emerging, darts an eye

^ Radiant with joy towards the happy hmd ;

<< So I with animated hopes behold,

<< And many an aching wish, your beamy fires,

^' That show like beacons in the blue abyss,

<< Ordain'd to guide th' embodied spirit home,

<< From toilsome life to never-ending rest.

<' Love kindles as I gaze. I feel desires

<' That give assurance of their own success,

<< And that, infus'd &om heav'n, must thither tend

So reads he nature whom the lamp of truth
Illuminates. Thy lamp, mysterious word 1
Which whoso sees no longer wanders lost.
With intellects bemaz'd in endless doubt,
But runs the road of wisdom. Thou hast built,
With means that were not, till by thee employed,
Worlds that had never been, hadst thou in streng
Been less, or less benevolent than strong.
They are thy witnesses, who speak thy pow'r
And goodness infinite, but speak in ears
That hear not, or receive not their report
In vain thy creatures testify of thee.
Till thou proclaim thyself. Theirs is indeed
A teaching voice ; but 'tis the praise of thine.
That whom it teaches it makes prompt to Icam,
And with the boon gives talents for its use.
Till thou art heard, imaginations vain
Possess the heart, and fables false as hell :

l^OK^f^. THE VINTXA ■•KmirG WALK. l57

Yet, deem*^(l oracular, lure down tk> death

The uninfonn'd and heedless soqIs of men.

We give to chance, blind chance, ouraelvea as blindi

The gloiy of thy wofik ; which yet appears

Perfect and unii^npeadiable oF blame,

Challeng^g human scrutiny, and prov'd

Then skilful ntost when most severely judg'd.

But chance is not ; or is not where thou- reign'st:

Thy providence forbids that fickle pow*r

(If pow'r she be that works but to confound)

To mix her wild vagaries wifti thy laws.

Yet thus we dote, refusing while wc can

Instruction, and inventing to ourselves

Crods, such as guilt makes welcome ; gods that sleep,

Or disregard our follies, or that sit

Amus'd spectators of this bustling stage.

Thee we reject, unable to abide

Thy purity, till pure as thou art pure ;

Made such by thee, we love thee for that cause

For which wc shunn'd and hated thee before.

Then we are free. Then liberty, like day.

Breaks on the soul, and by a flash from heav'n

Fires all the faculties with glorious joy.

A voice is heard that mortal ears hear not

Till thou hast touched them; 'tis the voice of song....

A loud hosanna sent from all thy works ;

Which he that hears it with a shout repeats,

And adds his rapture to the gen'ral praise.

In that blest moment. Nature, throwing wide

Her veil opaque, discloses with a smile

The Author of her beauties, who, retir'd

Behind his own creation, works unseen

o

VSB

THE TASK.

BOOK T.

By the impure, and hears his pow'r denied.
Thou art tlie source and centre of all minds.
Their only point of rest, eternal Word !
From thee departing, they are lost, and rove
At random, without honor, hope, or peace.
From thee is all that soothes the life of man,
His high endeavor, and his glad success^
His strength to suffer, and his will to serve.
("But oh thou bounteous Giver of all good,
Thou art of all thy gifts, thyself the crown !
Give what tiiou canst, without thee we are poor;
And with thee rich, take what thou wilt away.

THE TASK,

A POEM.

BOOK VI.

ARGUMSKT OF THE SIXTH BOOK.

Bells ftt ft di8taBoe....Their eflfeet...A fine noon In irlnter..»A diel-
tered walk....Meditation better than booka....Our fiuniliarity with
the course of nature. makes it.ft|>pear ley ynDderful than it i&^
'i'he tninsformatio!»ihftt ^pvtag eff«c|8in> liunibbery deaeribcd
....A mistake concerning the oourse of natnra c<nTe6ted....God
luatDtainf it hy an unremitted ftct...The amiisement ladiioBaUe
at this hour of the day t«|in«r«d.»*AiainaU happy» a delightful
teight...Origio of cruelty to animalfib-.Tliat it is a great crime
proved from scripturc....That proof iUustittted br a tale....A Una
drawn between the lawful and unlawful destruction of them..^
Their good and useful properties insisted on....Apotog]r ibr the
encomiums bestowed by the author on animals....Instanees of
ro«n*s cxu-avagaat praiae of man^Tke groans of the ereatioi
shall have an end... A view taken of the restoration of all thinga«.
An invocation and an invitation of him who shall bring it to past
....The retir^ man Tladieatod from the charge of osdeaaem...
CoaaluMB.

THE TASK.

4 •

BOOK VI.

THE WINTER WALK AT NOON.

jL here is in souls a sympathy with sovmds ;

And, as the mind is pitch'd, the ear is pleas'd

With melting airs, or martial, brisk, or gprave :

Some chord in unison with what we hear

Is touch'd within us, and the heart replies.

How soft the music of those village bells,

Falling at intervals upon the ear

In cadence sweet, now d3ring all away,

Now pealing loud again, and louder still.

Clear and sonorous, as the gale comes on I

With easy force it opens all the cells

Where mem'ry slept. Wherever I have heard

A kindred melody, the scene recurs.

And with it all its pleasures and its pains.

Such comprehensive views the spirit takes,

That in a few short moments I retrace

(As in a map the voyager his course)

The windings of my way through many years.

Short as in retrospect the journey seems.

It seem'd not always short ; the i*ugged path,.

And prospect oft so dreary and forlorn,

o2

i C2 ' TVB f AftK. BOOB Tt.

Mov'd many a aigh at ita duheart'ning length.

Yet) feeling present eyila, whOe the paat

Faintly impress Ike mibd^ or not aft M,

How readily we wish time spent revok'dy

That we might try the ground again, where once

(Through inexperieDce, as we now perceive)

We miss'd that happineaa we might have found !

Some friend is gone, perhaps his son's beat friend I

A father, whose authority, in show

When most severe, and iniis t* ri a g iJI ita fereOf

Was but the graver countenance of love ;

Whose &vor, likethe cknidaof spring, ought Itpn^

And utter now and then an awM rdkotj

But had a Ueaaing m itadaribeit fimm,

Threatening at once, ssid nourishing the plant.

We lovM, but not enough, the gentle hand

That rear'd us. At a thoughtleas age, allured

By cv*ry gilded folly, we renouncM

His shelt'ring aide, and wilfully forewent

That converse which we now hi van regret.^

How gladly would the man recall to life

The boy's neglected ure ! a mother too.

That softer friend, perhaps more gladly still,

IMlgitit he demand them at the gates of death.

SorroV has, since they went, subduM and tamM

The playful humori he could now endure^

.'Himself git>¥m sober in the vale of tears)

And feel a parent's presence no restraint.

But not to understand a treasure's worth

Till time has stol'n away the slighted good^

Is cause of half the poverty we feel.

And mtikes the worid the wilderness it is.

IDOKVJU THS WimH WAliB AT VOMT. 163

The fev tiut fFi^ it 4yU ^ajr oft

And, seeking gnioe <f iiD|>rofe the prise thef IwUU

Would mr^ a viaer eiiit thMLatkiag more.

The «ighl ww winter m hia migfaest mood ;
The moniixig sharp sod clear^ Butnow ataooa*
Upon the aoathem lideof the alant hUtt,
And where the woods Ssnoe offthe noitheni folseit. .
Theaeaaonsmiks, renfi^iiiiig att its rage,
And haa the wamtk of May.. The vawlt is bhio
Without a cloud, and white without a speck
The daxzling sple nd o r of the scene beh>w.
Ag^ain the harmony comes oi^cr the vale;
And through the treea I view<th' emhaittled towV-
Whence aU the music i again perceive
The soothing laAuenceof tlw wafted 8trains»
And settle in soft musings aa I tread
The walk, atill verdant, undor oaks and elra%
Whose outspread hrsnches oversrch the glade.
The roof, though moveable tbroogb all its length
As the wind sways it, has yet well auffic'd)
And, intercepting in their silent fidl
The frequent flakes* has kept a path ftr me.
No noise is here, or none dial hinders thought.
The red-breast warbles still, but is content
With slender notes, and more than half auppreuMs^
PIcas'd with his solitude, and flitting light
From spray to q>ray, where'er he rests he shakes
From many a twig the pendent drops of ice»
That tinkle in the wither'd leaves below.
Stilhiess, accompanied with aounds so soft.
Charms more than silence. iMeditation here

164 TBBTASK. BOOK TI.

May think down hours to moments. Here the heart

Alay give an useful lesson to the head.

And learning wiser grow without his books^ •

Knowledge and wisdom^ far from being oney

Have ofl times no connexion. Knowledge dwells

In heads replete with thoughts of other men ;

Wisdom in- minds attentive to their own.

Knowledge, a rude unprofitable mass.

The mere materials with which wisdom builds.

Till smooth'd and squar'd and fitted to its placet

Does but encumber whom it seems t' enrich.

Knowledge is proud that he has leam'd so much ;

Wisdom is humble that he knows no more.

Books are not seldom talismans and spells.

By which the magic arts of shrewder wits

Holds an unthinking multitude enthrall'd.

Some to the fascination of a name

Surrender judgment, hoodwink'd. Some the style

Infatuates, and through labyrinths and wilds

Of -error, leads them by a tune entranced.

While sloth seduces more, too weak to bear

The insupportable fatigue of thought,

And swallowing, therefore, without pause or chdce,

The total ^ist unsifted, husks and all.

But trees, and rivulets, whose rapid course

Defies the check of winter, haunts of deer.

And sheep-walks populous with bleating lambs,

And lanes in which the primrose ere her time

Peeps through the moss that clothes the hawthorn

root,
Deceive no student. Wisdom tliere, and truth,
Not bhy^ as in the world} and to be won

BOOK VI. THE WINTBftWittJjL ^LT NOON. 365

By slow solicitsuioDy ftciae «it onoe

The roving thought, and fix it on tiiexnidhnes.

What pcodfigieft can pow'r divine j ier lbna
More grand than it produoes foar lif yeari
And all in sight oi dnatlesitive woMsn ?
Familiar with th' effoct we alif^ tiie ^aniCt
And, intheconatancyef natuve'stonne,
The regular return of ^rnal smnthiy
And renovadon of « &ded warld.
See nought to wonder at. Should 6od againy
As once in Gribeoni intemipt^e race
Of the undeviating and punctoal awif
How would the world adndfe ! but apeaks it len
An agency divine, to make him know
His moment when to sink and when to nie,
Age after age, than to arrest his ooune }
All we behold is miracle ; but, seen
So duly, all is miracle in vain.
Where now the vital energy that movM
While summer was, the pure and aubdle lymph
Through th' impercepdble meand'ring veins
Of leaf and flow'r I It sleeps ; and th' icy touch
Of unprolific winter has impress'd
A cold stagnadon on th' intestine tide.
But let the montiis go round, a few short mondiay
And ail shall be nestar'd. Those naked shooHb
BarrcA as lances, among which the wind
Makes wintrf music, sighing as it goes.
Shall put dieir graceM fdiage <on again,
And, more nspiimg, and with ample apranflf
Shall boart new charmti^ and moft than they have hit

166 THE TASK. BOOKTh

Then each in its peculiar honors clad.

Shall publish, even to the distant eye^

Its family and tribe. Labernumj rich

In streaming gold ; syringa, iv'ry pure ;

The scentless and the scented rose ; this rqd

And of a humble growth, the other* tally

And throwing up into the darkest gloom

Of neighboring cypress, or more sable yew,

Her silver globes, light as the foamy surf

That the wind severs from the broken wave ;

The lilac, various in array, now white,

Now sanguine, and her beauteous head now set

With purple spikes pyramidal, as if,

Studious of ornament, yet unresolv'd

Which hue she most approvM, she chose them allf

Copious of flow'rs the woodbine, pale and wan^^

But well compensating her sickly looks

With never-cIo3ring odors, early and late ;

Hypericum, all bloom, so thick a swarm

Of flowers, like flies clothing her slender rods^

That scarce a leaf appears ; mezerion, too,

Though leafless, well attir'd, and thick beset

With bluriiing wreaths, investing ev*ry spray ;

Althaea with the purple eye ; the broom,

Yellow and bright, as bullion imalloy^d,

Her blossoms ; and luxuriant above all,

The jasmine, throwing vride her elegant sweets^

The deep dark green of whose unvarnished leaf

Makes more conspicuous, and illumines more

The bright profusion of her scattered stars....

These have becni and these shall be in their day ^- .

*TbeGaeldflC4«tew

BOOK VI. THE WXVTEB. WALK AT KOOK. l^f

And all this uniform) uncolor'd scene^

Shall be dismantled of its fleecy load)

And flush into variety again.

From dearth to plenty) and from death to life^

Is Nature's progress, when she lectures man

In heav'nly truths evincing, as she makes

The grand transition, that there lives and works

A soul in all things, and that soul is God.

The beaudes of the wilderness are his,

That make so gay the solitary place

Where no eye sees them. And the fairer forms

That cultivation glories in, are his.

He sets the bright procession on its way,

And marshals all the order oT the year ;

He marks the bounds which winter may not pasS)

And blunts his pointed fury ; in its case.

Russet and rude, folds up the tender germ,

Uninjur'd, with inimitable art;

And, ere one flow'ry season &des and dies,

Designs the blooming wonders of the next

Some say, that, in the origin of things,
When all creation started into birth.
The infant elements received a law.
From which they swerve not since. That under force
Of that controling ordinance they move.
And need not his iinmediate hand, who first
Prescribed their course, to regulate it now.
Thus dream they, and contrive to save a God
Th' incumbi^ance of his own concerns, and spare
The great artificer of all that moves
The stress of a continual act, the pain

IM. van VIM. m^QMHs.

Of unremitted TigilUKV amt car«^

As too laborious and mtt9cmwm\t^

So man, the moth, is not atekli k seenuy

To span oaoMpoleBcey an^acAMm-mi^ty

That knows no mc M t S ybyth^gcMitf wde

And standard of hb ovUf that is to-day.

And is not ere to*mocRiw'ssun go down !

But how should matter occupy a charge.

Dull as it iS) and satisfy a law

So vast in its demands, unless impelled

To ceaseless service by a ceaseless force,

And under pressure of some conscious cause I

The Lord of all, himself through all ^ffus'dy

Sustains, and is the life of all that lives.

Nature is but a name for an effect,

Whose cause is. Gkxi. He feeds the secret fire

By which the mighty process is maintained,

Who sleeps not, is not wearf ; isk whoae sight

Slow-circling ages are as transient days ;

Whose woriL is without labor ; whose designs

No flaw deforms, no difficulty thwarts ;

And whose beneficence no charge exhausts.

Him blind antiquity pro&n'd, not 8erv*d,

With self-taught rites, and under various naaes,

7emale and male, PomonH, Pales, Pan,

And Flora, and Vertammis ; peopling earth

With tutelary goddesses and goda-

That were not; and comnuinding, as they wooldf

To each some province, garden, fieU^ of grove.

But aU sore under one. One s^rit....HiB>

Who wore the platted thorns with bleeding brows.-

joules universal iiatiffe. Not aAiVr

MOK Tl. THE WINTER WALK AT NOON. 169

But shows some touch, in freckle, streak) or stidni
Of his unrivall'd pendl. He inspires
Their halmy odors, and imparts their hues,
And bathes their eyes with nectar, and indudes,
In grains as countless as the sea-side sands,
The forms with which he sprinkles all the earth.
IIapp7 who walks with him ! whom what he finds
Of flayor or of scent in fruit or flow*r,
Or what he views of beautiful or grand
In nature, from the broad majestic oak
To the green blade that twinkles m the sun,
Prompts with remembrance of a present God I
His presence, who made all so fair, perceiv'd,
Makes all still fairer. As with him no scene
Is dreary, so with him all seasons please.
Though winter had been none, had man been true,
And earth be punish'd for its tenant's sake.
Yet not in vengeance ; as this smiling sky.
So soon succeeding such an angry night.
And these dissolving snows, and this clear stream
Recovering fast its liquid music, prove.

Who then, that has a mind well strung and tun*d
To contemplation, and within his reach
A scene so friendly to his fiiv'rite task.
Would waste attention at the chequer'd board,
His host of wooden warriors to and fro
Marching and counter-marching, with an eye
As fix'd as marble, with a forehead ridg'd
And furrow'd into storms, and with a hand
Trembling, as if eternity were hung
In balance on his conduct of a ^f ..^

170 TKB TASK. . BOOS Yl

Nor envies he aught more their idle sport.
Who pant with applicatioQ misapplied
To trivial toys, and, pushing iv'ry balls
Across a velvet level, feel a joy
Akin to rapture when the bauble finds
Its dcstm*d goal, of difiicult access..-
Xor deems he wiser him, who gives his noon
To miss^ the mercer's plague, from shop to shop
Wand'rin^. and litt'riag with unfolded silks
l^'hc polish'd counter, and approving none,
Or promising with smiles to call again....
Nor him» who by his vanity seduc'd,
And sooth'd into a dream that he discerns
The diff'rence of a Guide from a daub.
Frequents the crowded auction : stationM tliere
As duly as the Langford of the show,
With gloss at eye, and catalogue in hand,
And tongue accomplish'd in the fulsome cant
And pedantry that coxcombs learn with ease ;
Oft as the price-deciding hammar falls
He notes it in his book} then raps his box.
Swears 'tis a bargain, rails at his hard fate
That he has let it pass....but never bids !

Here, unmolested, through whatever sign
The sun proceeds, I wander. Neither mist,
Nor freezing sky nor sultry, checking me,
Nor stranger intermeddling with my joy.
Ev'n in the spring and play-time of the year,
That calls th' unwcmted villager abroad
With all her little ones, a sportive train,
To gather king-cups in the yellow mead,

BOOK VI. THE WINTER WALK AT NOON. ITl

And prink their hair with daisies, or to pick
A cheap but wholesome sallad from the brook.
These shades are all my owii. The tim'rous harc>
Grown so familiar with her frequent guest,
Scarce shuns me ; and the stock-doye, onalarm'd^
Sits cooing in the pine-tree, nor suspends
His long love-ditty for my near approach.
Drawn from his refuge in some lonely elm
That ag^ or injury has hallow'd deep,
Where, on his bed of wool and matted learcs,
He has outslept the winter, renturcs forth
To frisk awhile, and bask in the warm sun^
The squirrel, flippant, pert, and full of play ;
He sees me, and at once, swift as a bird,
Ascends the neighb'ring beach ; there whisks his

brush.
And perks his ears, and stamps and cries aloud,
With all the prettiness of feigned alarm,
And anger insig^ficantly fierce.

The heart is hard in natutv, and unfit
For human fellowship, as being void
Of sympathy, and therefore dead alike
To love and friendship both, that is not pleas'd
With sight of animals enjoying life.
Nor feels their happiness augment his own.
The bounding fawn, that darts across the glade
When none pursues, through mere delight of heart,
And spirits buoyant with excess of glee ;
The horse at wanton, and almost as fleet,
That skims the spacious meadow at full speed.
Then stops and snorts, and, throwing high his heels,

- " Kairi

b"c»acnact«Butt'r»no
l'> ecsUKy too big to be «,p,
i .cse, and a U,ou«and image

,''**'*'="«»' nwndefeM. not

AH that are caprice of plewui
A far superior h„ppj^ ^ ^

ILecomlbrtofareawnahlej,

Man scarce had ria'n, obedii

VVhoform'dhimfhm.thed«,
, , \'*'" ''* ^ crown'd «i nerei
t'od ,et the diadem upon hj, h,
And angel ch,*, Mle^j, VV

i he new made monarch, while
A I l«ppy, ^ ^ ^^^ ^ ^^

1 he creature. Bummon'd from
i o see their sov'miom. .«j — ,

BOOK VI. THE V.lSrril WAI.S AT XOON. I '3

So Edon was a scene of hnrmlcss sport,

Where kindness on Lis part vrho rul'd the whole

Beg^t a tranquil confidence in ally

And fear as yet was not, nor cause for fear.

But sin marr*d all ; and the revolt of mani

That source of evils not exhausted yett

Was punifth'd with revolt of his from him.

Garden of God, how terrible the change

Thy groves and lawns then witnessed I Ev'ry heart,

Each animal of ev*ry name, conceived

A jealousy «nd an instinctive fear.

And, conscious of some danger, either fled

Precipitate the loath'd abode of man,

Or growl'd defiance in such angry sort,

As taught him, too, to tremble in his turn.

Thus hai'mony and family accord

Were driv'n from Paradise ; and in that hour

The seeds of cruelty, that since have swell'd

To such gigantic and enormous growth,

Were sown in human nature's fruitful soil.

Hence date the penecutiop and the pain

That man inflicts on al) inferior kinds,

Regardless of their plaints. To make him sport.

To gratify the frenzy of kis wraths

Or his base gluttony, are causes good

And just, in his account, why bird and beast

Should suffer torture, and the streams be dyed

With blood of their inhabitants impai'd.

Earth groans beneath the burden of a war

Wag'd with defenceless innocence, while he,

Not satisfied to prey on all around,

Ad !s tenfold bittemesa to death by panga

p2

174 TU£ TXSK. BOOE VI.

Needless, and first torments ere he devours.
Now happiest they that occupy the scenes
The most remote from his abhor'd reaorty
Whom once, at delegate of Ood on earthf
They fear'd, and as his perfect image, loT'd.
The wildemesa is theirs, with all its cavest
Its hollow glens, its thickets, and its plainii
Unvisited by man. There they are free^
And howl and roar as likes them, uncontrd'd ;
Nor ask his leave to ahimber or to play.
Woe to the tyrant, if ho dare intrude ^
Within the confines of their wild domain I
The lion tells him....I am monarch here 1
And, if he ^mre him, spares him on the terms
Of royal mercy^ and through gen'rous scorn
To rend a victim trembling at his foot.
In measure, as by force of instinct drawHy
Or by necessity constrained, they tive
Dependent upon man ; those in his fields.
These at his crib, and some beneath his roof.
They prove too often at how dear a rate
He sells protection.... Witness at his foot
The spaniel dying, for some veiual foult.
Under dissection of the knotted scourge....
Witness the patient ox, with stripes and yells
Driv'n to the slaughter, goaded, as he runs,
To madness; while the savage at his hetis
Laughs at the frantic sufTVer^s fury, spent
Upon the guiltless passenger overthrown.
He too, is witness, noblest of the train
That wait on man, tlie flight-performing horse :
With unsuspecting readiness he takes

lOOK VI. THB WIKTBR WALK AT NOON. 17 jf

His murd'rer on his back, and, push'd all daf,
With bleeding sides and fianks that heave for Ufe»
To the far-distant goal, arrives and dies.
So little mercy shows who needs so much !
Does law, so jealous in the cause of man, .
Denounce no doom oa the delinquent?... JiToiicu
He lives, and o'er his brimming beaker boasts
(As if barbarity were high desert)
Th' inglorious feat, and, clamorous in praise
Of the poor brutCf seems wisely to suppose
The honors gf his matchless horae his own !
But many a crime, deem'd kmocent on eartji»
Is registered in heav'n^ and these, no doubt»
Have each their record, with a curse annexed*
Man may dismiss compassion from his heart,
But God will never. When he charg'd the Jew
T' assist his foe's down-fallen beast to rise;
And when the bush«exploring boy, that seis'd
The young, to let the parent bird go free ;
Prov'd he not plainly that his meaner wori^
Are yet his care, and have an int'rest all,
All, in the universal Fatber^s love ?
On Noah, and in him on all mankind.
The charter was conferred, by which we hobt
The flesh of animals in fee, and claim
O'er all we feed on pow'r of life and death.
But read the instrument, and mark it well ;
Th*^ oppression of a tyrannous control
Can find no warrant there. Feed, then, and yield
Thanks for thy food. Carnivorous, through sin,
Feed on the slaiui but spare the living bnUe !

176 TH£ TASK. *■ BOOK TX.

The Governor of all, himself to all '
So bountiful) in whose attentive ear
The unfledg'd raven and the lion's whelp
Plead not in yaiafbr pity on the pangs
Of hunger unasaiiai^dt has interposed,
Not seldom, hb avenging arm, to smite
Th' injurious trampler upon nature's law,
That claims forbearance even for a brute.
He hates the hardness of a Balaam's heart ;
And, prophet as he was, he might not strike
The blameless animal without rebuke^
On which he rode. Her opportune offence
Sav'd him, or th' unrelenting seer had died.
He sees that human equity is slack
To interfere, though in so just a cause ;
And makes the task hb own. Inspiring dumb
And helpless victims with a sense so keen
Of inj'ry, with such knowledge of their strength,
And such sagacity tatake revenge,
That oft the beast has seem'd to judge the man.
An ancient, not a legendary tale,
By one of sound intelligence rehears'd,
(If such who plead for Providence may seem
In modem eyes) shall make the doctrine clear.

\%m»m

Where England, stk^tch'd towards the setting sun,
Narrow and longy o'erlooks the western wave^
Dwelt young Misagathus ; a scomer he
Of God and goodness, atheist in ostent ;
Vicious in act, in temper savagtf-fierce.
He joumey'd ; and hb chance viras as he went.
To join a traveller, of far different oote....

BOOK YI. THE WIKTXR WALK AT KOOIT. 177

Evander, &m'd far pietf , for years
Deserving honor, but for wifldom more.
Faroe had not left the Tenerable man
A stranger to the mannen of the yonthy
Whose face, too, was fomiiar to his view.
Their way was oir the margin of the land.
O'er the green summit of the rocksy whose base
Beats back the roaring surge, scarce heard so high.
The charity that warm*d his heiut was ma?*d
At sight of the man-monster. With a smile
Gentle, and affable, and full of grace,
As fearful of offending whom he wiah'd
Much to persuade, he plied his ear with truths
Not harshly thunder'd forth or rudely press'd,
But, like his purpose, gracious, kind, and sweet.
^ And dost thou dream," th' impenetrsble man
Exclaim'd, ** that me the lullabies of age,
^< And fantasies of dotards, such as thou,
« Can cheat, or move a moment's foar in me ?
^< Mark now the proof I give thee, that the braTe
<* Need no such aids as superstition lends
^' To steel their hearU against the dread of desCh.*'
He spoke, and to the precipice at hand
Push'd with a madman's fory. Fancy shrinks,
And the blood thrills and curdles, at the thou^t
Of such a gulph as he design'd his grave.
But, though the felon on his back could dare
The dreadful leap, more rational, his steed
Declm'd the death, tfid, ndieeling swifUy round.
Or e'er his hoof had press'd the crumbling verget
Baffled his rider, sav'd stgainst his will i
The frenzy of the brain may be redress'd .

178 THE TASK. BOOK VI.

By med'cine well applied, but without grace

The heart's insanity admits no cure.

Enraged the more, by what might have reformed

His horrible intent, again he sought

Destruction, with a zeal to be destroy'd,

With sounding whip, and rowels dyed in blood.

But still in yain. The Providence that meant

A longer date to the far nobler beast,

Spar'd yet again th' ignobler, for his sake.

And now, his prowess prov'd, and his sincere

Incurable obduracy evinc'd,

His rage grew cool ; and, pleas'd perhaps t' have

eam'd
So cheaply the renown of that attempt.
With looks of some complacence he resum'd
His road, deriding much the blank amaze
Of good Evander, still where he was left
Fix'd motionless, and petrified with dread.
So on they far'd. Discourse on other themes
Ensuing, seem'd t' obliterate the past ;
And, tamer far for so much fury shown,
(As is the course of rash and finery men)
The rude companion smil'd,' as if transform'd.
But 'twas a transient calm. A storm was 'near>
An unsuspected storm. His hour was come.
The impious challenger of pow'r divine
Was now to learn, that Heav'n, though slow to wrath,
Is never vrith iinpunity defied.
His horse, as he had caught his master's mood.
Snorting, and starting into sudden rage,
Unbidden, and not now to be control'd,.
Rush'd to the cliffy and^ having reach'd ity stood;

BOOK VI. THE WINTEIL WALK AT NOOH. 179

At once the shock unseated him : he flew
Sheer o'er the craggy barrier ; and, immers'd
Deep in the floods foundy when he sought it not»
The death he had deserv'd...4aid died alone !
So God wrought double justice ; made the fool
The victim of his own tremendous ch(uce».
And taught a brute the way to safe reveng^e.

I would not enter on my list of friends
(Though grac'd with polish'd manners and fine senary
Yet wanting sensibility) the man
,-Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm.
An inadvertent step may crush the snail
That crawls at ev'ning in the public path ;
But he that has humanity, forewamMy
Will tread aside, and let the reptile live.
The creeping vermin, loathsome to the sight,
And charg'd perhaps with venom, that intrudes,
A visitor unwelcome, into scenes
Sacred to neatness and repose....th* alcove,
' The chamber, or refectory.... may die :
A necessary act incurs no blame.
Not so when held within their proper bounds,
And guiltless of offence, they range the air,
Or take their pastime in the spacious field :
There they are priviledg'd ; and he that hunts
Or harms them there is guilty of a wrong.
Disturbs th' economy of nature's realm»
Who, when she form'd, design'd them an abode.
The sum is this....If man's convenience, health,
Or safety, interfere, his rights and claims
Are paramount, and must extinguish theirs.

' Else they are all....tlie neaBeeC dimgs tlutt are....
As free to Ihre* end to enjoy that Itfe,
As God waa free to iMPm then at the first.
Who, in hiasov'reigB wisdoHi^ nade them lA.
Ye, therefore, lAtm k)i¥e meicy, teach yo«r sons
To lore it too. The sprmg^iiiieof our years
Is soon diBhoiior*d and deSlM m most
By budding ills, that ask a prudent hand
To check them. But, id!as! none sooner shoots,
If unrestrained, into luxuriant growth.
Than cruelty, most dev^ish of them all.
Mercy to him that shows it, is the rule
And righteous limitation of its act.
By which Heav'n mores in pard'ning guilty man ;
And he that shows none, being ripe in years.
And conscious <^the outrage he commits.
Shall seek it, and not find it, in his turn.

Distinguish'd much by reason, and still more
By our capacity of grace divine,
From creatures that exist but for our sake,
Which, having serv'd us, perish, we are held
Accountable ; and God, some future day.
Will reckon with us roundly for th' abuse
Of what he deems no mean or triviial trust.
Superior as we are, they yet depend
Not more on human help than we on theirs.
Their strength, or speed, or Tigilance, were gir*n
In aid of our defects. In some are found
Such teachable and apprehensiTe parts,
That man's attanments in his own concerns,
Match'd with th' expertness of the brute's in theirs,

B(X>K yf-U THB WIKTBR WALX AT NOON. Ml

Are oft times vanquish'd and thrown far behind.
Some show that nice sag^acity of smelly
And read with such discernment, in the port
And figure of the man, his secret aim,
That oft we owe our safety to -a skin
We could not teach, and must despair to learn.
But learn we might, if not too proud to stoop
To quadruped instructors, many a good
And useful quality, and virtue too,
Rarely exemplified among ourselves.
Attachment never to be weau'd, or chang'd,
By any change of fortune ; proof alike
Against unkindness, absence, and neglect;
Fidelity, that neither bribe nor threat
Can move or warp ; and gratitude for small
And trivial favors, lasting as the life,
And gUst'ning even in the dying eye.

Man praises man. Desert in arts or arms
Wins public honor; and ten thousand sit
Patiently present at a sacred song.
Commemoration-mad ; content to hear
(Oh wonderful effect of music's pow'r !)
Messiah's eulogy for Handel's sake !
But less, mcthinks, than sacrilege might serve....
(For, was it less ? what heathen would have dar'd
To strip Jove's statue of his oaken wreath,
And hang it up in hcHior of a man 1)
Much less might serve, when all that we design
Is but to gratify an itching ear.
And give the day to a musician's praise.
Remember Handel ? Who, that was not bom
Deaf as the dead to harmony, forgets,

i

Its TBB TAtE. flOOKTI.

Or can, the more than Homer of hii age ^

Yes... .we remember him; and^ while we praise

A talent so dlTine, remember too^

That his most holy book from whom it camoy

Was never meant) wijs neTer us*d before.

To buckram out the mem'ry of a man.

But husli !....the muse perhaps is too severe ;

And, with a gravity^ beyond the size

And measure of th' ofTencey rebukes a deed

Less impious tlian absurdi and owing more

To want of judgment than to wrong design.

So in the chapel of old Ely House^

When wand'ring Charles, who meant to be the thirdi

Had fled from William, and the news was fresh.

The ^mple clerk, but loyal, did announce.

And eke did rear right merrily, two ^aves.

Sung to the praise and glory of King George 1

Man praises man ; andGarrick'smem'ry next,

When Ume hathaoaewhat mcliow'd it, and made

The idol of our worship while he liv'd

The god of our idolatry once more,

ShuU have its altar ; and the world shall go

In pilgrimage to bow before his shrine.

The theatre, too small, shall auffocate

Its squeea'd contents, and m^ore than it admits

Shall sigh at their exclusion, and return

Ungratified. For there some noble lord

Shall stuff his shoulders with King Richard's bunch,

Or wrap himself in Hamlet's inky cloak.

And strut, and storm, and straddle, stamp, aad stare.

To show the world how Ganick did not act—.

For Garrick was a worshipper himself;

He drew the liturgy, and inuoa'd the rites

BOOK TI. THE WINTBft WALK AT KOOH. 183

And solemn ceremonial of the day^
And call'd the world to worship on the banki
Of Avon, fam'd in song. Ah, pleasant proof
That piety has still in human hearts
Some place, a spark or two not yet extinct.
The mulb'ry-trce was hung with blooming wreaths ;
The mulb'ry-tree stood centre of the dance ;
The mulb'ry-tree was hymn'd with dulcet airs ;
And from his touch-wood trunk the mulb'ry-tree
Supplied such relics as devotion holds
Still sacred} and preserves with pious care.
So 'twas an hallow'd time: decorum reign'dt
And mirth without offence. No few returu'd.
Doubtless, much edified, and all refresh'd.
....Man praises man. The rabble, all alive.
From tippling-benches, cellars, stalls, and styes,
Swarm in the street^. .The statesman of the day»
A pompous and slow -moving pageant comes.
Some shout him, and some hang upon his car.
To gaze in 's eyes, and bless him. Maidens wave
Their 'kerchiefs, and old women weep for joy :
While others, not so satisfied, unhorse
The gilded equipage, and, turning loos^
His steeds, usurp a place they well deserve*
Why ? what has charm'd them ? Hath he aav'd the

state?
No. Doth he purpose its salvati(»i ? No.
Enchanting novelty, that moon at full.
That finds out ev'ry crevice of the head
That is not sound and perfisct, hath in theirs
Wrought this disturbance. But the wane is near.
And his own cattle must suffice him soon.
Thus idly do we waste the breath of praise,

1 94 THE TABK. BOOB VI.

And dedicate a tribute^ in its use
And just direction sacred, to a things
Doom*d to the dust* or lodged already there L
Encomium in old time was poet's work ;
But poets having lavishly long since
Exhausted all materials of the art.
The task now falls into the public hand ;
And I, contented with an humble themoy
Have pour'd my stream of panegyric down
The vale of nature, where it creeps, and winds.
Among her lovely works with a secure
And unambitious course, reflecting olear^
If not the virtues, yet the worth, of brutes.
And I am recompensed, and deem the toils
Of poetry not lost, if verse of mine
May stand between an animal and woe,
And teach one tyrant pity for hia drudge.

The groans of nature ih tliis nether world,
Which Heav^ has heard for ages, have an end;
Foretold by prophets, and by poets sung.
Whose fire was kindled at the prophet's lampi
The time of rest, the promised sabbath, comes.
Six thousand years of sorrow have well nigh
Fulfiird their tardy and disastrous course
Over a sinful world ; and what remains
Of this tempestuous state of human things,
Is merely as the working of a sea
Before a calm, that rocks itself to rest :
For HE, whose car the winds are, and the clouds
The dust that waits upon the sultry march.
When sin hath mov'd him, and his irralh is hot,

BOOJL VI. THE WINTER WALK AT NOOK. Ii5

Shall visit earth in mercy ; shall descend »
Propitious^ in his chariot pav*d with love ;
And what his storms have blasted and defac*d
For man's rtrokU b^ulU mth a smile repair.

Sweet is the harp of prophecy ; too sweet
Not to be wrong'd by a mere mortal touch :
Nor can the wonders it records be sung
To meaner musicf and not suffer loss.
But, when a poett or when one like mey
Happy to rove among poetic flow'rsi
Though poor in skill to rear them) lights at last
On some fair themey some theme divinely hitf
Such is the impulse and the spur he feels
To give it praise proportion^ to its worthy
That not t' attempt it) arduous as he deems
The labor, were a task more arduous stiU.

Oh scenes surpassing hhitf and yet true»
Scenes of accomplished bliss 1 which who can aee^
Though but in distant prospecty and not feel
His soul refresh'd with foretasteof the joy ?
Rivers of gladness water all the earth.
And clotlie all climes with beauty ; the reproach
Of ban*enne88 is past. The fruitful field
Laughs with abundance ; and the landy once leany
Or fertile only in its own disgrace^
Exults to see its thistly curse repealed.
The various seasons woven into one^
And that one season an eternal springy
The garden fears no blighty and needs no fenccy
For there is none to covet^ all are fblL

r2

186 THBTASK. B90SVI.

The lion, and the libbard* and the bear

Graze with the fearless flocks ; all bask at nooo

Together, or all. gambol in the shade

Of the same grove, and drink one common stream.

Antipathies are none. No foe to man

Lurks in tho serpent now: the mother sees.

And smiles to see, her infant's plajrful hand

Stretch'd forth to dall^ with the crested worm^

To stroke his azure neck, or to receive

The lambent homage of his arrowy tongue.

All creatures worship man, and all mankind

One Lord, one Father. Error has no place :

That creeping pestilence is driv'n away ;

The breath of heav*n has chas'd it. In the heart

No passion touches a discordant string,

But all his harmony and love. Disease

Is not : the pure and uncontam'nate blood

Holds its due course, nor fears the frost of age.

One song employs all nations ; and all cry,

« Worthy the Lamb, for he was ahunibr us V*

The dwellers in the vales and on the rocks

Sliout to each other, and the mountain tops

from distant mountains catch the flying joy ;.

Till, nation after nation taught the strain,

Karth rolls the rapturous hosannas round.

Behold the measure of the promise fill'd;

Sec Salem built, the labor of a God!

Bright as a sun the sacred city shines ;

All kingdoms and all princes of the earth

Hock to that light ; the glory of all lands

t lows into her ; unbounded is her joy,

And eiiriless her increase. Thy rams are there,

8O0K.VI. THE VINTSK WACK AT HOOir. LS'

■Nebaioth, and the Socks of Kedar there ;

The kioms of Ormus, and the miiwa of Ind)

And Saba'a ajHcy groves, pay tribute there.

Praise is in all her gates : upon her walls.

And in her streets, and in her spacious courts,.

Is heard s»lvHtioa. Eastern Java there

Kneels with the naUre of the fiuthest west;

And Ethiopia spreftds abioad the hand, .

And worships. Her report has travell'd forth

Into all lands. From ev'ry clime thef conu

To see thjr beauty and to share thy joy,

O Sion ! an assembly such aa earth

Saw never, such as hesv'n stoops down to see.

Thus heav'n-ward all things tend. For all were

Perfect, and all must be at length restor'd.
So God has greatly purpos'd ; who would else
In his dishonor'd works himself endure
Dishonor, and be wrong'd without redress.
Haste, then, and whed awsy a shatter'd worid^
Ye slow-revolving seascMis! we would see
(A sight to which our eyes are attsngers yet)
A world that does not dread and hate his tews.
And suSer for its crime ; would learn how bit
The creature is that Ood pronounces good,.
How pleasant in itself what pleases him.
Hereev'iydropof honey hides Bating;
Worms wind themselves into our sweetest flow'rs ;
And ev'n the joy that haply some poor heart

* Nebnioth nnd Kedar, theKnuorithnuei; Mid prB g a Jlu tiaf
the Anibi, '" '*" I — r''"^'" ' i '| i1 ii i hrrii ■I hi i V i ll ln. iiiijhi iii
nubl}r ogDudered M nproMOlatiTesflf llM GntilM at lw|«.

us T8B TA8B. MOK VI.

Derives from heav'iH |mYt as the foimttdn is,
Is sullied in the streami taking a tEont
From touch of human Upsi.at best impuir*
Oh for a world in principle as chaste
As this is gross and selfish I over which
Custom and prejudice shall bear no sway.
That govern all things heroi shovUd'ring aside
The meek and modest tnith» and forcing her
To seek a refuge from the tongue of strife
In nooks obacure» fiur firom the ways of men :%•••
Where violence shall never lift the sword,
Nor cunning justify the proud man's wrongi
Leaving the poor no remedy but tears !••..
Where he that fills an office shall esteem
Th' occasion it presents of ddng good
More than the perquisite :.... where law shall speak
Seldom, and naverbut as wisdom prompts
And equity; not jealous more to guard
A worthless fimn, than to decide aright :.»•
Where fashion shall not sanctify abuse,
Nor smooth good breeittng (supplemental grace)
With lean performanee ape the work of love I

Come tben^ and, added to thy many crownst
Receive yet one, the crown of all the earth.
Thou who alone art worthy! Itwasthima
By ancient covenant, ere nature's birth ;
And thou hast made it thine by purchase sipeoy
And overpsid its value with ^ bleed.
Thy sainu proclaim thee king; and in their heartn.
Thy title is engmven with apen
Dipped in the fountain of eternal love.
Thy saints prodainrtiMe king; andthydlela^

I. THE WINTER WALK AT NOON. 189

lourage to their foes, who, could they bcc
wn of thy last advent, long desir'd,

creep into the bowels of the hills,
ie for safety to the felling rocks.
ry spirit of the world is tir*d
»wn taunting question, ask'd so long,
re is the promise of your Lord's approach V[
fidel has shot his bolts away,
s exhausted quiver yielding none,
ans the blunted shafts that have recoil'd,
ms them at the shield of truth again.
;il is rent, rent too by priestly hands,
ides divinity from mortal eyes ;
1 the mysteries to £dth propos'd»
d and traducM, are cast aside,
less, to the moles and to the bats.
iovr are deem'd the fsdthful, and are prais'd,
:onstant only in rejecting thee,
hy Godhead with a martyr^s seal,
lit their office for their error's sake,
and in love with darkness ! yet ev'n these
y, compared with sycophants, who kneel
ime adoring, and then preach thee man !
s thy church. But how thy church may fare
>rld takes little thought. Who will may preach,
hat they will. All pastors are alike
id'ring sheep, resolv'd to follow none,
ods divide them all.. ..Pleasure and Gain.
;se they live, they sacrifice to these,

their service wage perpetual war
onscience and with thee. Lust in their heart%

ischief in their heads, they roam the earth -
y upon each other; attthbonH ficrcei

190 TSft TUklS. - »OOX VI.

High««iiidedk ftmming out their own disgrace.
Thy prophets q>eak of such ; andf noting down
The featuiM of the last degen'rtte times.
Exhibit eVry lineament of these.
Come then> and, added to thy many crowns,
Receive yet one, as radiant aa the rest,
Due to thy last and most effectual work,
Thy word fiilfiird, the conquest of a world !

He is a happy man, whose life ev'n now
Shows somewhat of that happier life to come ;
Who, doom'd to an obscure but trsnquii state,
Is pleasM with it, snd, were he free to choose.
Would make his &te his choice ; whom peace, the

fruit
Of virtue, and whom virtue, fruit of &ith.
Prepare for hi^ipiness ; bespeak him one
Content indeed to sojourn while he must
Below the skies, but having there his hoase.
The world overlooks him in her busy search
Of objects, more^ illustrious in her view ;
And, occupied as earnestly as she, '

Though more sublimely, he overlooks the worid.
She scorns his pleasures, for she knows them not 3
He seeks not hers, for he haa proved them vain*
He cannot skim the ground Uke summer Urds
Pursuing gilded flks ; and such he deems
Her honors, her emduments, her jo3rs*
Therefore in contemplation is his bUsa»
Whose pow'r is such, that whom she Uftsfromeacth
She makes familiar with a haav'n unseen.
And shows him glories yet to be reveal'd.
Not slothfol he, though seeming anemploy*4

BOOK VI* THE WIKTBm WAJ.K AT MOON. 191

And censur'd oft as uselen. ' Stillest strauns

Oft water ikirest meadows» and the bird

That flutters least is longest on the wing.

Ask him, indeed, what trophies he has rais'd>

Or what achieyementi of immortal fiune

He purposes, and he shall answer.- J^one.

His warfare is within. There imfittigu^d

His ferrent spirit labors. There he fightsi

And there obtains fresh triumphs o'er himself.

And never with'ring wreaths, compared with which

The laurels that a Caesar reaps are weeds.

Perhaps the self-approving haughty world)

That as she weeps him with her whistling silks

Scarce deigns to notice him, or, if she see,

Deems him a cypher in the works of God,

Receives advantage from his noiseless hours,

Of which she little dreams. Perhaps she owes

Her sun&hine and her rain, her blooming spring

And plenteous harvest, to the pray'r he makes,

When, Isaac like, the solitary saint

Walks forth to meditate at even-tide.

And think on her, who thinks not for herself.

Forgive him, then, thou bustler in concerns

Of little worth, an idler in the best,

If, author of no mischief and some good.

He seek his proper happiness by means

That may advance, but cannot hinder, thine.

Kor, though he tread the secret path of life.

Engage no notice, and enjoy much ease.

Account him an incumbreoice on the state,

Receiving benefits, and rendering none.

His sphere though humble, if lluit humble q^iere «

Shine with his fidr fxaaq4e,«BA thangfa pbmII

193 TU TAtX. BOOK Yl«

influence) if that influence all be spent
In soothing sorrow and in quenching striib)
In aiding helpless indigence* in works
From which at least a grateful few derife
Some taste of comfort in a world of woet
Then let the supercilious great confess
He serves his countiy, recompenses well
The state, beneath the shadow of whose vine
He sits secure* and in the scale of life
Holds no ignoble* though a slighted* place.
The man* whose virtues are more felt than seen*
Must drop indeed the hope of public praise ;
But he may boast what few that win it can.^.
That, if his country stand not by his skill*
At least his follies have not wrought her fall.
Polite refinement oflers him in vain
Her golden tube* through which a sensual work!
Draws gross impurity* and likes it well*
The neat conveyance hiding all th' oflence.
Not that he peevishly rejects a mode
Because that world adopts it If it bear
The stamp and clear impression of good sense*
And be not costly moro than of true worth*
He puts it on* and for decorum sake*
Can wear it e'en as gracefully as she.
She judges of refinement by the eye*
He by the test of conscience* and a heart
Not soon deceived ; avrare that what is base
No polish can make sterling ; and that vice*
Though well perfum'd and elegantly dross'd*
Like an unburied carcase trick'd with flow'rs*
Is but a garnish'd nuisance* fitter far
For cjeanly riddance than for fair attire.

BOOK VI. THE WINTER MORKINO WALK. 193

So life glides smoothlf and bf stealth away,

More golden than that age of fabled gold

Renown'd in ancient song ; not vex'd with care

Or stain*d with guilt, beneficient) approved

Of God and man, and peaceful in its end.

So glide my life away \ and so at last.

My share of duties decently fulfiU'd,

May some disease, not tardy to perform

Its destin'd office, yet with gentle stroke,

Dismiss mc, weary, to a safe retreat

Beneath that turf that I have often trod.

It shall not grieve me, then, that once, when called

To dress a Sofa with the flow'rs of verse,

I play'd awhile, obedient to the f«ur.

With that light task ; but soon, to please her more,

Whom flow'rs alone I knew would little please,

Let fall th' unfinished wreath, and rov^d for fruity

Rov'd far, and gathcr'd much : some harsh, 'tis true,

Pick'd from the thorns and briers of reproof.

But wholesome, well digested; grateful some

To palates that can taste immortal truth ;

Insipid else, and sure to be despis'd.

But all is in his hand whose praise I seek.

In vain the poet sings, and the world hears,

If he regard not, though divine the theme.

'Tis not in artful measures, in the chime,

And idle tinkling of a minstrel's lyre.

To charm his car, whose eye is on tlic heart ;

Whose fro'v\-n can disappoint the proudest strain,

Whose approbation.. ..niospEii evkn mine.

C"

XL

N

1